Fallen Angel
by Atawalpa
Summary: Becoming a vampire for his 16th is not Harry's idea of a birthday present. And he wasn't even bitten so how did he become the impossible? He runs from all he loves to find out the answer.rape self-mutilation DH slash
1. Back to Hell

Fallen Angel

Chapter One - Back to Hell

Harry had been back at the Dursley's for barely two weeks, and he already knew this was going to be the worst summer yet.

The Dursleys had been shocked at how much he had changed over his fifth year at Hogwarts. He was now approaching 5'7ft and while he would never be considered very tall he was no longer considered tiny, as he had been at the start of the year, at a small 5' 4.

Then there was his hair; A month into his fifth year he had decided that he'd like to grow his hair out so that it may be a bit more controllable. He'd gone to bed that night with his mind made up but dreading the stage where his hair would be in a ridiculous bob and wishing that his hair would skip straight to the length he wanted it to be. He'd woken up the next morning feeling a little strange, staggered fuzzily into the bathroom, looked dazedly into the mirror, and screamed. The other boys in the dorm had scrambled through, fearing what they would find, to see Harry standing there staring fixedly at his hair, which was flowing beautifully around his waist. Everyone had been very taken with it and impressed with his wandless magic. Then he'd arrived back at the Dursleys.

Vernon was waiting for him outside King's Cross, not wanting to be seen near those 'freaks'. The large man frowned at Harry, then realised the he only had to look an inch down to stare into his nephews face.

Apart from his new height, there was the lithe build, from hours of Quidditch training, a pierced ear, which had been the result of too many butterbeers in the Three Broomsticks with Fred and George in celebration of the opening of their new joke shop. And long, silky black hair.

The big man paled considerably when he saw Harry was no longer the small, skinny boy he used to be. Now, he looked dark and powerful, full of hidden menace with his emerald eyes glittering dangerously behind slender, new glasses. But the boy had quietly done what he was told and Vernon's fear of Harry dropped. Soon he was telling the almost-sixteen-year-old that if he didn't behave and do exactly what he was told then he, Vernon, would lock 'that bloody bird' under the stairs and leave her there to starve.

Aunt Petunia shrieked when she saw her late sister's son standing in the hall, and started babbling about what the neighbours would say if they saw him looking like a criminal with his long hair and pierced ear.

Dudley hadn't been in when Harry had arrived back at 4 Privet Drive. According to Petunia her 'ickkle Duddiekins' was working out at the gym with his friends. Harry seriously doubted that, as the only exercise Dudley had ever done in his life was 'Harry hunting.' So, when Dudley had casually walked back in around dinnertime, coated in sweat and no longer fat but looking like a boxer – which, Harry was to find out to his misery, he was - Harry almost had a heart attack and just managed to stop him self dropping the roast potatoes. Dudley himself froze near the table when he saw his smaller cousin staring at him, wide eyes filled with shock.

Harry watched Dudley's face go through a series of expressions before settling into something unreadable, before he silently sat down at the table. He proceeded to sneak glances at Harry throughout the meal, and, at one point, purposely dropped his knife so that Harry had to bend over to get it. As Harry had straightened up he could have sworn that Dudley was checking out his ass with that unreadable look once again in his eyes.

Harry had been given a headache with Vernon telling him all the things he would be fixing this holiday so he rushed upstairs straight after finishing the washing up, tore into the bathroom, yanked off his shirt and stuck his head under the cold tap. While he knew he was being a bit over-dramatic he knew the Dersleys wouldn't giving him a painkiller if he asked and he couldn't exactly go to the Hospital Wing and beg Madame Pomfrey for a headache cure. When his headache had calmed to a dull throbbing he stood up, his wet hair clinging in strands like snakes to his slender back, sending cold rivulets over the golden skin, and the freshly inked black dragon tattoo.

Harry had then had the misfortune to glance up at the door, which he had shut but not locked. It now stood open with Dudley leaning on the doorframe, his eyes fixed on Harry with the same expression that he'd seen in them several other times that night, and then he recognised the look in his cousin's eyes; Lust. Harry just wasn't used to another boy staring at his body that way, and it un-nerved him to say the least, although, somehow, he managed to keep his face passive.

"What the fuck do you want?" Harry snapped at his cousin. Dudley's eyes re-focused.

"You'll find out soon enough," he leered, letting his eyes rove slowly over his cousin's body one last time before pushing off the doorframe and walking away, leaving Harry shivering, and not just from the cold water running down his back.

The next day Petunia woke him up by banging sharply on his door as she was heading downstairs.

By the time Harry had pulled himself up, yanked on a pair of jeans with a belt to hold them up, a black T-shirt, and run a brush through his hair, tying it back with a slim leather cord, his aunt was already screeching for him to hurry up from the kitchen.

The Gryffindor slunk into the kitchen quietly, so quietly in fact that his aunt didn't hear him, so when she had turned around to find a tall, dark figure standing behind her she had screamed and dropped the frying pan, sending burning hot pieces of bacon over the tiled floor.

Uncle Vernon went ballistic, grabbing Harry's arm and twisting it cruelly behind his back until the boy groaned in pain through his gritted teeth.

"You're going to clean up the mess with your hands and then make us all breakfast," his large uncle hissed spitefully in his ear before letting him go and slapping him brutally across the face.

So, it was with a bruised cheek and burnt hands that Harry had started his daily chores.

Two hours later, Harry was out weeding the garden when Vernon had walked up behind him and grabbed his long hair, yanking his head back.

"Your aunt and I are going up to Marge's for a couple of days. We've left you a list of things to do and I expect them to be complete when we get back or there will be serious trouble boy! Dudley has kindly said that he'll stay here to keep an eye on you. A warning to you brat, if you threaten him with any of your abnormalities you'll find yourself out on the streets before you can say unfair."

With that, Vernon and Petunia left, leaving Harry alone with Dudley.

Half an hour later Harry was bending over to pull the last weed from a bed of tulips, when two strong hands grabbed his waist and flipped him over, efficiently pinning him to the ground.

Dudley stared down at him, his eyes filled with greed and lust, a smirk on his lips in the face of Harry's shock.

"Now," the bigger boy began grinding his hips against Harry's. "You're going to play nice. God knows how you became so beautiful over the course of a year, but I want you. I want _inside_ you."

The Gryffindor was filled with a deep burning rage. He'd already been through so much and now this! He hadn't even had time to mourn Sirius properly before hateful people were fucking up his life again. And he was scared. Beyond scared actually. Apart from Cho he'd never had any type of sexual experience and a few sloppy kisses could hardly be called even that.

Desperately he struggled like a cornered tiger under his cousin, but the bigger boy's weight kept him from pushing Dudley off and he soon collapsed panting against the ground.

Harry's panic quickly turned to horror, when he realised that all his struggling had only aroused his cousin. A sweating and gasping Harry seemed to appeal to the spoilt boy very much and Dudley always got what he wanted.

So Harry used his last resort, not giving a damn about the consequences if Vernon found out.

"I used magic to make my hair grow, Dudley. I used a wizard sport to tone my body; a sport played on broomsticks in the air. I got drunk on a wizard drink in a wizard pub and got my ear pierced by magic. You don't want to touch me when I'm soaked in magic, do you Dudley? When it's in my very blood?"

It had entirely the wrong effect. Dudley, if possible, got even more aroused, and snickered, leaning in to bite Harry's neck brutally, not caring or rather enjoying that he was leaving a mark, before whispering hotly in his cousin's ear.

"Dad told me to punish you as I see fit if you used either of those words, so I'm going to punish you very badly, Harry."

With that Dudley got up, pulled Harry to his feet and yanked his arms behind his back so that the longhaired youth couldn't get away.

The youngest Dursley marched the struggling boy with wild emerald eyes up to his room, locked the door and put the key in his pocket. Next he turned on his new CD player with a techno dance album playing out at full volume to mask any noises from the neighbours.

Throwing Harry onto his double bed, Dudley raped him and Harry's agonised screams tore through the house, but there was no one there to hear him.

The next day for Harry had been even worse. Dudley had disappeared early in the morning, leaving a silent Harry to clean himself up as much as possible, then he'd changed Dudley's bed, stripping the blood and semen stained sheets with his eyes closed. Unable to bare touching them any longer the long haired boy had shoved them behind his cousins wardrobe and left them there before rushing, as fast as his wounded body would allow, to the bathroom.

After he'd showered he still felt dirty even though he'd scrubbed at his skin until it had bled.

Another emotional scar was added to his already ragged soul.

He painfully started to carry on with the jobs he still had left to do, getting at least half of them of them finished before the inevitable happened. Harry was carefully polishing the brass in the living room when he heard the door slam and several voices.

"So where is he then?"

"I hope he's as beautiful as you say."

"Of course he is, on the outside and the inside."

"That's not fair! You got him all to yourself!"

"Well, of course, he's my cousin after all."

Harry would have given anything for his invisibility cloak in that moment but he just stood there with a heavy brass ornament in one hand and a polishing cloth in the other, frozen to the spot.

"Ah! Here he is!" Dudley called and pushed open the living room door.

Two other boys followed him into the room. Both had similar builds to Dudley. Together the three of them stood there, leering at Harry appreciatively.

"Well, I see you were telling the truth, Dudley," the one with dark hair said.

"Yeah," the other, a redhead added. "Beautiful, absolutely beautiful."

Harry remembered thinking that they sounded like they were discussing a piece of art and took a step backwards. The three trollish boys grinned nastily and closed in on him.

"He's got the most delicious tattoo on his back," Dudley helpfully supplied.

"Can't wait to see it then," the redhead grunted as he reached for Harry with a large hand.

Stupidly, the boy left a gap and, with almost inhuman speed, Harry slipped under his arm, dropping the cloth and brass, and bolted out of the room and up the stairs. He burst into his room and grabbed a quill and parchment, hearing the confused yells from downstairs. He jotted down a desperate note to Ron, folded it and yanked Hedwig's cage door open when he heard the pounding of feet up the stairs. Hedwig had hurriedly stuck out her leg, sensing her master's urgency and Harry quickly tied the letter to it.

"Go Hedwig! Take this to Ron, quickly!"

Hedwig was just stretching her wings when the door burst open and Dudley tore into the room. In one glance the larger boy took in the situation and sprang after Hedwig, grabbing her leg, pulling her from the air before she was even halfway to the window, which Harry was holding open. Outraged the white owl had screeched and sank her sharp beak deeply into Dudley's hand making the boy bellow in pain.

When Harry looked back later, everything that had taken place after that instant had seemed to of happened in slow motion.

The black-haired boy jumped forward to try and free his bird, but Dudley had already raised his free hand and grabbed her snowy head.

Then Dudley grinned at Harry and twisted.

The crack of breaking bones filled the room, followed by a terrible silence.

Harry stared at his beloved Hedwig lying limply in Dudley's big blood covered hand, the letter for Ron still tied to her leg.

With a flump Dudley dropped the broken body and kicked her to Harry's feet. The graceful boy had knelt down and cradled the small body of his loyal owl that had never failed a delivery except for the last one. He wanted to weep, but his tears had run dry a long time ago, when the first killings had started; Cedric Diggory, Bertha Jenkins, Artimus Crouch, Sirius Black, so many from the Order that he couldn't name them all and now Hedwig, all killed because of selfish, greedy men's wants.

When Harry looked up, Dudley, the dark head and the red head were all standing in the room. Dudley had shut the door and was standing in front of it to stop Harry escaping again while the other two walked over, their arousal's apparent, to the crouching emerald eyed boy.

Harry just numbly closed his eyes and hung his head as they grabbed him and flung him onto the small bed.

Maybe he deserved it, he thought as the dark head straddled his stomach, pushing up his shirt and running his hands over the smooth muscles, groaning slightly as he did.

After all, it was his fault everyone had died, he mused as the red head pulled off his shoes and socks. Then, the bigger boy reached up and undid Harry's belt and slipped a large hand under the waistband of his jeans.

Harry managed to switch his mind off, something he did when life became too much for him, but he could still feel what the two larger boys were doing to him. So, when the red head roughly entered him, he bit his lip hard enough to draw blood while the dark head kissed the tattoo on his back.

Dudley, becoming too aroused to carry on guarding the door swept down on Harry, hungrily devouring the longhaired boys unresponsive mouth with his own, forcing his tongue inside his cousin's mouth and feeling the texture and taste of the slimmer boy.

Harry's glasses bumped Dudley's nose, so, with a growl, the blond boy yanked them harshly off Harry's face and threw them across the room, where they shattered against the wall, but none of the boys looked up. Harry, because he couldn't and the other three were too involved with his body to care.

They all had a go at forcing themselves inside of Harry, although it was easier after the first as the small boys passage had been lubricated with blood. But when Dudley had entered him, Harry felt something brutally tear deep inside of him. He screamed as blood gushed from the abused hole and collapsed backwards into Dudley's arms without intending to. The pain hit him in never ending, rolling waves, which made his head swim and his eyelids flutter. Harry thankfully fell back into the peaceful world of unconsciousness and when he next opened his eyes it was to find that he'd casually been dumped back on the bed after his clothes had been forced back on him.

Hedwig was still lying on the floor so, after he painfully attempted to pull his aching body off the now stinking bed - which was covered with three boy's seed and a terrifying amount of blood - and failed, he slid off the edge onto the floor and crawled towards her, his head feeling as though it were trying to go three way at once from the vast blood loss. How he wasn't dead was beyond him and he found himself wishing that he hadn't woken up at all.

One slender hand bumped against something soft and the agonised boy realised that he'd reached Hedwig. He gently picked the owl's body up and managed put her back in her cage by levering himself up by use of his chest of drawers.

Afterwards, Harry fuzzily tried to find his glasses, but, after crashing into the wall several times, all he found was a broken frame and a couple of pieces of smashed glass. They were un-fixable unless he used magic, which he wasn't allowed to do, so Harry would have to go without glasses until he could get them mended.

Then Harry heard the sound of a car pulling up the drive and remembered that he hadn't finished the jobs he had been meant to do.

"Oh, shit," was all he said, and then he sat down in the middle of the cold floor to wait for what would definitely come, which it did, a little sooner than he had expected.

"Boy!" Vernon's voice bellowed as the huge man stormed up the stairs.

The door to Harry's room burst open and Vernon tore in like a rampaging bull.

After the man had shouted himself hoarse at the boy, who had numbly been staring at the wall, trying his hardest not to collapse, Vernon realised that his words had just washed over Harry without the slender boy paying the slightest bit of attention. So, with a bellow like a wounded elephant, Vernon launched himself at his dazed nephew and punched the fifteen year old across the face as hard as the big man could. The force knocked the silent boy to the floor, clutching at his jaw, which had been broken.

Harry stared up at his uncle with empty eyes; used to the regular beatings Vernon had given him form as far back as he could remember. What his exhausted mind and body couldn't deal with was a beating on top of what had just happened. But Vernon didn't hold back and left him barely conscious on the floor, where he stayed for the rest of the day and all through the night.

The next day Vernon reattached the locks on Harry's door and the same routine that had been laid down in Harry's second year was re-started; Harry was allowed to leave his bedroom every morning and night to go to the bathroom, and food was pushed through under the cat flap at the base of his door. The only difference from his second year was that Vernon didn't attach bars to his window, he had probably forgotten.

Harry wondered dully how his uncle had missed all the blood on his bed and the blood that had been on him and his clothes _before_ Vernon had 'disciplined' him, but then put it down to the fact that if Vernon had wondered, the big man would have reassured himself that his son had been dutifully punishing that freak of a boy and had pointedly ignored the strong smell of sex in the room. It truly was amazing how some people could absolutely _refuse_ to see what was right in front of them - their brains somehow blocking it out; there was no starving beggar on the street corner, there was no man screaming abuse at his sobbing girlfriend in the restaurant, there was nothing that would threaten their perfect little world balancing on an eggshell.

That night Harry carefully took Hedwig's cage, wrapped some string around the handle on the top and gently lowered the cage with Hedwig's body inside out of the window and into the dense bushes at the base of the house. As he couldn't leave to bury her, that would have to do until he could.

Lowering the heavy cage made his broken arm and ribs throb badly, so, afterwards he just sat staring out at the moon, wondering if he was going to survive this summer and secretly hoping that he wouldn't.

The next day, Vernon nailed his window shut, muttering that he wasn't going to waste any more money having further bars fitted.

The big man had come up with a simple plan to stop Harry getting his mail; shutting every window in the house except one in the downstairs kitchen, he waited. As this was the only accessible window, owls would fly in drop their post on the kitchen table and leave. Then Vernon would burn the letters and packages the next morning.

The other difference was that Vernon gave Dudley the key to Harry's room whenever he went to work. So, Dudley would make a complaint to his mother about not having something that his friends had and the horse faced woman would rush out of the house, desperate to make her 'ickkle Duddiekins' happy. Then Dudley would slowly walk up to Harry's room, unlock the door, walk in and close it behind him, stroll across the floor to the blood stained bed to where his cousin was huddled, trying not to move until his shattered bones healed. Dudley would slip his hand under Harry's chin and force his head up to look at him. Then the bigger boy would lean in a kiss him and Harry's eyes would screw shut from the waves of pain coming from his broken jaw. Dudley would always rape Harry until he lost consciousness, and it was breaking Harry, piece by jagged piece.

Sometimes Dudley would feel particularly daring and creep down to Harry's room when his mother and father were asleep and rape him with his hand pressed over Harry's mouth so the smaller boy could not scream.

So, this hell went on for two weeks for Harry, with regular beatings from Vernon and even more regular rape from Dudley.

Now the night of his birth approached.

Harry woke up on the last day he was fifteen feeling …strange.

Well, strange apart from his broken ribs, arm, jaw, two fingers, a twisted ankle, whip marks on his back from two different belts, dark bruises covering his body, and neumours deep cuts that looked as though they had been carved slowly onto his pale skin with a razor blade, the headache he had from not wearing his glasses, the pains coming from his empty stomach and the terrible pain from his ripped and torn hole.

He felt like his blood was boiling without it actually hurting, and that his bones were slowly re-arranging themselves.

The day went normally for Harry.

He was let out to weakly stand under the shower for a few minutes, only because Petunia said that if he got any dirtier he would catch fleas and she would not have fleas in her clean house. Harry emerged feeling better that he had in days, with his wet hair clean and pulled back, the bruise on his jaw had healed to a sickly yellow and his arm and ribs slowly starting to heal. Maybe once the most visible marks had gone he'd be let back out simply because Petunia hated doing chores when there was someone else there who could do them for her.

But he could never quite shake the smell of Dudley from his skin. No matter how clean he got he still felt violated and dirty, not to mention the awful nightmares he was having every night without fail. They would start with Voldemort and all of those who had died. Then it would inevitably go on to Vernon and Dudley.

Back in his prison of a room, he pulled his last set of clean clothes from his large trunk. He usually didn't wear them because they were so …black. But now black suited his mood perfectly.

A black shirt with a silver dragon imprinted on the chest, a matching black dragon hide belt with a silver dragon buckle, and a simple pair of black trousers with a silver dragon winding up the left leg. They had been a gift sent to him by the twins at Christmas, and the card they'd sent with the clothes had made some rather mysterious remarks about 'dragons' which Harry had laughed off with Ron but still found himself puzzling over from time to time.

He slid like a snake into the clothes, which moulded themselves to his body perfectly. As an afterthought he pulled his only pair of dragon hide boots from the bottom of the trunk and pulled them on, then fished around in his trunk a little more, searching blindly for something.

His long fingers closed around a small, velvet box and he gently pulled it out and opened it.

Resting on the white silk inside lay a necklace.

On a delicate silver chain there was a dragon. Its wings were spread as if it was about to launch itself into space and its mouth was open in a silent roar. Its eyes were tiny rubies that glittered in the sunlight and something about it always made Harry feel protected. It had been a gift from Dumbeldore at Christmas. The old man had said that it had belonged to Harry's father. Once Harry had been told that he wore it everywhere, but on the train ride on the way back to the Dursley's he had carefully taken it off, knowing the Dursleys would take it from him the moment they saw it, as the rubies were real as was the silver.

But it felt right for him to wear it today. On the day he was sixteen.

He pulled it on over his head and let his mind drift back to the very few good memories he had of his parents.

His mother singing to him in a beautiful voice, but he couldn't make out the words. His father holding him by an awesome lake and pointing to the full moon which was reflected perfectly on the water, he was speaking to baby Harry in a soft, soothing voice, but Harry couldn't make out his words either.

Harry spent the rest of the day sitting on his bed trying to remember his parents, blissfully forgetting his troubles and emotional pain that was slowly tearing him apart.

Soon night feel and the cold soup pushed through the cat flap remained unheeded.

Harry watched the full moon rise into the sky through a gap in the boards on his window and shifted slightly. Pain flared through his body, reminding him that he was still a long way from fully healed.

A glance at the clock on his bedside table showed that he only had a matter of minutes until twelve o'clock.

Would life be any different when he turned sixteen?

Sixteen seemed to be a pretty important age in the wizarding world. It seemed to be the age when a child stops being a child, that their power manifests itself completely inside of them, pulling them to their full potential.

Harry remembered when Ron had turned sixteen a few months ago. The Weasley's had made such a big fuss over it, sending him gift after gift after gift. Mrs Weasley had sent him a tearful letter talking about how her youngest boy was now becoming a man and stepping into the family inheritance. After Ron's sixteenth he had been a lot more powerful in class and found lessons a hell of a lot more simple, although to start with he'd had poor control, as things he'd had to strain over before he'd put the same amount of effort into, and more often than not there'd be several small craters in his desk by the end of the lesson.

Harry glanced up at the clock again.

He now had twenty seconds until midnight.

What would happen to him?

Would anything unusual happen to him that he would inherit from his parents?

What the hell did he know about his parents anyway?

Ten seconds to go.

And what about his full potential manifesting itself inside of him?

Everyone expected him to be really powerful. Powerful enough to take on Voldemort, and Harry knew that Voldemort a.k.a Tom Riddle had been one of the most superb student Hogwarts had ever had.

How could people expect him to live up to that?

Five seconds to go.

What if he wasn't very powerful at all?

Harry didn't want to disappoint anyone and he knew that the wizarding world was waiting with baited breath to see if he'd be strong enough to take Voldemort on.

Two.

Then why had Voldemort tried to kill him before he turned sixteen if he wasn't very likely to be powerful?

But maybe he was.

One.

Harry hated other people knowing more about him than he did.

Zero.

Pain burned through his body, setting his veins on fire, making his muscles spasm, and his brain overload. The Boy Who Lived fell to the floor, gasping desperately for breath. His bones felt as if they were turning into liquid iron and rearranging themselves, twisting into impossible shapes. He wanted to scream but his voice refused to work. A gnawing sensation was behind his eyes, making it feel as though someone was ever so slowly pushing a red-hot pin into the back of his eyeballs. The pain was flooding his whole body, rearranging his bones and internal organs. Then, as suddenly as the pain had started, it was over, leaving Harry gasping on the floor.

The longhaired boy slowly pushed himself to his feet, staring around him with wild green eyes.

Everything was crystal clear, clearer than it had ever been, even when he had worn his glasses. He could see a tiny moth, which should have been invisible to the naked eye at night, fluttering around near the ceiling. Everything was almost as bright as day, faintly tinged blue.

His sense of smell was now impossibly sharp, he could still smell the Dursley's dinner from earlier drifting up from downstairs, the perfumed sent of Petunia's mud mask, and the horrible smell of Dudley's seed coming from the bed where he had raped him countless times.

He could hear the fluttering of the moth's wings, the scrapping of a mouse behind the skirting board, and the heavy snoring and faint heartbeats of his aunt and uncle. He could also hear his cousin creeping down the hall and his faster, louder heartbeat.

Harry quickly checked himself over and realised that his injuries were completely healed, the bruises had vanished from his body and his muscles were back to full form after two weeks of being trapped in a small room.

Then Harry realised another thing.

He was hungry.

So hungry in fact that it hurt.

But the pain was not in his stomach. It was all over his body, as if each muscle and vein was slowly being suffocated. A cramp soon followed the suffocating feeling. He needed something to eat to stop the pain that would soon kill him. How he knew it would kill him if he couldn't say.

The bitter scent of his own blood was heavy on the air, making his teeth itch.

A glance at the cold soup by the door told him that that type of food was not what he needed.

Outside the door, he heard Dudley pull the key from his pyjama pocket; the smooth metal rasping loudly on the cotton material to Harry's newly sharpened ears. The slim boy could hear the blood rushing through the other boy's veins; could smell it, could almost taste it.

Without thinking Harry ran his tongue over his teeth and almost had a heart attack, for, where a human's usually rather blunt canines were, there were now two very sharp and very long fangs.

Everything suddenly clicked into place as survival instinct took over; pushing down the rational part of Harry's mind that was screaming that what was happening was impossible.

He was now a vampire, and he needed blood desperately.

Dudley slowly pushed open the door.

The large boy didn't want to admit it, but he was infatuated with his cousin. Dreaming about him every night, and every day when he couldn't touch that silky skin was torture. His two friends from the gym, Tommy and Keith, had wanted to come back and have another go with the fey creature that was the Gryffindor. But Dudley had told them what his father had done to the longhaired boy, breaking his bones and leaving him useless. The blond had told them that they couldn't touch him again until he was completely healed in case they 'damaged' him beyond repair. His friends had reluctantly agreed, willing to wait if they could see the mysterious boy again. So Dudley had gleefully run home, happy to have Harry all to himself for several weeks at least. And now, tonight, Dudley had woken up and remembered that at midnight his cousin would turn sixteen. He decided to creep along to Harry's room and give him a little 'present.' Before he even realised it he was silently unlocking the 'freaks' door and pushing it open.

The second he stepped inside and turned to see his cousin standing straight and tall in the middle of the floor, he knew that something was wrong.

He stared at Harry, properly this time, not just staring at him through lust filled eyes.

This time Dudley really looked at him, and the blonde boy was terrified.

Harry stood quietly, dressed all in black, melting into the shadows. He was part of the night, with his slender figure looking relaxed but filled with a terrible hidden power. His dark hair was loose, flowing like a black waterfall around his shoulders. His skin was white in the moonlight making his midnight clothes and hair look even darker. Dudley raised his eyes to Harry's face and almost bit off his tongue. Harry's eyes were no longer emerald. They still held a glimmer of green, but the irises were swirling with silver. He was beautiful, as beautiful as an angel, but one with the darkness around him.

"A fallen angel," Dudley whispered.

"No," Harry calmly said and Dudley was shocked at how rich and musical his voice was, but, then again, he'd only heard Harry scream over the past two weeks.

"Not a fallen angel, just a vampire."

Dudley stumbled backwards, groping for the door, but Harry was too fast. With inhuman speed, the Gryffindor pulled Dudley away from the door and slammed him against the opposite wall, holding him there with impossible strength.

Harry grinned wickedly at his terrified cousin, gleefully hearing the boy whimper at the sight of his fangs.

"And I'm so hungry."

He leaned forward, staring at Dudley's neck. He could smell the blood running through the blonde's veins, could hear his heart pumping it around his body.

"I can smell your fear. It adds quite a nice tang to the blood, so I've heard."

The smell of Dudley's fear increased, his heart beat even faster and Harry's smile widened.

Harry wanted to toy with his cruel cousin some more, but he was too hungry, so he leaned in and licked Dudley's neck, making the veins stand out clearly. The larger boy shuddered under him, his body betraying him by responding to the lick his black haired cousin had planted on his neck. Harry felt his cousins body react and breathed hotly on the pale neck beneath him.

"You liked that, didn't you? Well you'll love this then."

Without further ado, he leaned in and sank his two slender fangs into Dudley's neck.

Dudley groaned loudly under him, but Harry was much too involved with drinking the life giving blood to care that the noise might carry to his aunt and uncle sleeping next door.

The texture and taste of it flowing down Harry's throat was simply the most extraordinary thing he had ever drank; He could live on it, which was exactly what he would have to do. The scent of coppery fear in the blood added an extra texture to it, making it even sweeter, making his fangs ache, desperate for more.

"What are you doing boy!"

The voice bellowed from the doorway as the light was switched on.

The sudden light momentarily blinded Harry and he recoiled away from Dudley and into the darkest corner faster than the eye could see.

Vernon and Petunia stood gaping in the doorway, hardly daring to believe what they were seeing as Dudley slid down the wall to the floor with a little moan.

"Dudley!" Petunia shrieked and threw herself across the room to her dazed son.

Vernon stared at his nephew crouching like a cornered tiger and saw red. With a roar, the big man threw himself at the boy.

Harry looked up, his eyes back to his normal emerald colour but empty again and his fangs retracted.

He'd had enough.

As his uncle sent a huge fist flying for his face Harry stood up, held out a hand and caught it mid-flight, stopping it in the air. Vernon stood there, opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish, his brain not wanting to process the information he had just received.

"I-impossible," was all the man managed to chock out.

Again, the sadistic grin spread across Harry's face as he held Vernon's shaking fist casually.

"Oh, I assure you Vernon, it is very possible."

In one swift movement he let go of his uncles fist, grabbed the taller man by the collar of his pyjamas, and lifted his fat uncle completely off the floor and above his head.

"Now, what shall I do to you bastards who have made most of my life a living hell?"

Vernon grabbed vainly at Harry's hands, staring at the dark boy with terrified eyes.

"Please," a voice sobbed from behind Harry. He turned, still holding Vernon in the air to find Petunia kneeling by an unconscious Dudley with tears streaking down her thin face.

"You are my sister's son, and she would never have hurt anyone. Please, out of respect for your mother, put Vernon down and don't hurt any of us."

Her words pierced Harry through his battered heart.

Out of respect for his mother.

What would his parents say if they saw him now?

The elfin boy stared at Dudley. If Vernon and Petunia hadn't come in when they had he would have carried on drinking until Dudley had died.

Harry lowered Vernon to the ground where the man gasped for breath that had been restricted from him in the air.

The Gryffindor stood there, fighting an internal battle with himself. He wasn't safe. He needed to go away until he could control himself and find out his full potential. What if he lost control again in front of his friends? What if he hurt them? Harry didn't think he could stand it if he caused his friends any more pain. It was dangerous enough for them to care for him in the first place. Death Eaters could and had tried to hurt them to get to him, but if they were in danger from him, Harry himself? Yes, he had to get his newfound powers under control.

Harry looked up and found his only living relatives staring at him, petrified. He sighed and ran a slender hand through his raven black hair. He also needed to do something about them. Then he remembered one of the powers a vampire was supposed to have.

"Forget," he whispered and waved his hand at Vernon, Petunia and Dudley, who was still lying on the floor.

Their eyelids fluttered and fell shut. Petunia and Vernon slumped to the floor, fast asleep along with Dudley. If he had done it right, then they would have a peaceful night's sleep and wake up in the morning, unable to remember anything of the night's events.

One by one, he picked them up and carried them back to their beds.

The two puncture wounds on Dudley's neck were already almost completely healed, by the morning they would look like two old bite marks from a bug of some kind.

He went back to his room and grabbed his trunk, which was still packed, wrote a short note to the Dursley's, saying something serious had come up and that he might see them next summer, picked up his trunk that now felt as light as a feather, walked down the stairs and out of the front door into the night.

Harry walked as silently as a cat around the side of the house to the bushes beneath his bedroom window. He reached a hand in and pulled out Hedwig's cage with Hedwig herself still inside, seemingly unaffected by the sight and smell of her decaying body.

The silver moon shone down on a street, the tarmac gleaming dully under it. The light flowed up the street touching everything with a kiss. Past houses that mirrored each other exactly and on towards a small cluster of trees, a crown of velvety leaves gracing their proud heads, and onto a figure that the light of the moon caressed as he was part of the night with moonlight flowing in his very veins. It was his birthright to rule the night, though he didn't know it yet, to dance on the moonbeams and to drink from the eternal darkness.

Harry raised his head from digging Hedwig's grave. For a moment there he'd almost felt …something.

When the hole was deep enough, Harry gently reached over and picked up Hedwig in her cage and slowly placed it in the hole. Then he started to fill in the grave until all it looked like was a freshly turned pile of earth.

Once finished, Harry stood looking down at the small grave for a long time, the moonlight saturating him in silver.

"Thank you for being my friend."

Before the musical voice had faded away, he was gone.

An hour later, Little Winging was far behind Harry and he was almost in London.

It amazed him that he could keep up running so fast for so long, but he wasn't even breathing heavily. He jumped another hedge and carried on running.

Half an hour passed and Harry found himself standing outside the Leaky Cauldron. Without a sound he stepped inside and found the smoky room empty, for which he was thankful.

"Mr. Potter!" Harry spun around faster than the eye could follow and Tom the barman blinked up at him. Harry's shoulders sagged in relief.

"Tom!" He gasped.

Tom's confusion on how Mr. Harry Potter had managed to turn around so fast was replaced by worry.

"Are you all right, Mr. Potter?"

The barkeeper reached out a hand to rest it on Harry's shoulder, but the boy jumped back as if he were burned.

"Don't touch me!"

The old man stared in shock and Harry forcefully got control of himself, he just couldn't handle anyone touching him, not with the memories of the abuse and rape still so raw in his mind.

"Fine, Tom, I'm fine. Can I have a room for tonight?"

The old barkeeper relaxed and beamed up at him, making his face look like a weathered old wrinkled prune.

"Of course Mr Potter!"

Tom shuffled round the large mahogany bar and plucked a key off a stand, which giggled.

"Your usual, room Eleven sir. Your bag is already up there."

Harry took the key from the old man, nodded his thanks and walked up the stairs wondering if room Eleven was put aside just for him, as he always got it whenever he stayed there.

The room was exactly like he remembered it, with the comfy four-poster bed and large mirror hanging from the wall.

"Hello dear," the mirror wheezed, "I must say you certainly have changed for the better since I last saw you, very nice."

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair, glancing in the mirror to make sure his scar was hidden under his fringe.

"I've also changed for the worse," he murmured.

"Not from where I'm standing, handsome," the mirror replied.

With a growl, Harry turned away and spotted his trunk. He stalked over to it and flung the lid open, digging deeply around until his hand closed on what he was looking for.

Pulling out his Defence Against the Dark Arts book he flicked open the index and ran his eyes down the page until he came to 'Vampire.' Checking the page number, he opened the book to the right page to find in huge gothic script the title 'Vampire's.'

Harry read until the grey light of dawn spread across the sky, absorbing whatever would give him any sort of control. But the more he read, the more sceptical he became.

He learned that a vampire could take any animal's form at will. A vampire can talk to dark animals e.g. Dementors, Werewolves in 'beast' form, etc. A vampire can walk on water. A vampire can control people's minds and actions up to a certain point; for example, he can't control a human for longer than an hour. A vampire can walk about comfortably in sunlight, although the sun drains their powers. Garlic, crosses and holy water does not affect a vampire. A vampire is very fast at self-healing. A vampire can eat normal food but it won't give them any nourishment. A vampire needs blood because their blood does not contain any oxygen, so if they do not feed they will suffer a very painful death by every part of their body suffocating from lack of oxygen and cramping. The human or animal a vampire feeds on will forget the events leading to them being drunk from and the bite marks will heal quickly. A vampire can wipe a human's mind, making them forget certain events without drinking from them. A vampire can hold his/her breath for several hours, so most like to swim lakes and tease humans by disappearing under the surface for hours, making the humans panic, believing they've drowned. A vampire's senses are much sharper than human's; they can see clearly in the dark, they can smell human emotions, they can hear a heartbeat. A vampire is much stronger and faster than human's with incredible reflexes, it is not advisable to attack them, as you will die. A vampire can sense if another vampire is in the same room as they are. A vampire is telepathic. A vampire can do wandless magic. A vampire cannot feed from another vampire as neither contains the needed oxygen. A vampire does not need as much sleep as a human as their body regenerates when they feed. A vampire has a pair of wings in their back, hidden under the skin. They use these rarely as they can turn into any animal at will and they are quite noticeable. Since the ninth century, spotted flying vampires have been known as 'Fallen Angels' as their wings are black and they are only seen flying at night. Born vampires, known as lamies, can stop ageing whenever they like, though most stop around nineteen, however, a made vampire stops ageing at the age they are changed. Vampires can only be killed by vast blood loss, beheading or staking. All vampires are very beautiful and move with grace, they then become even more beautiful when they 'change', so beautiful that they look inhuman. When a vampire changes, their fangs come down, their eyes change to either gold or silver and they radiate a dangerous but bewitching aura. All vampires are evil and think that humans are below them as they feed on us. Many went over to You-Know-Who, so they didn't have to worry about killing their prey if they feed a bit too long.

Harry fell asleep reading; 'only lamies can have children, it is impossible for a made vampire to carry a child and it is impossible for a human and a vampire to have a child.'

As usual, he was tortured by nightmares but didn't wake until the sun was just reaching its peak.

He stood and slowly went into the bathroom to shower. Under the warm jets he puzzled over what the book had said, only lamies could have children, a vampire born from vampires, but Petunia wasn't a vampire so how could his mother have been?

Harry dressed in the same clothes he'd been wearing when he'd arrived earlier as his other clothes were still littered around his room in Privet Drive, he'd have to buy some more today along with a bird before he left.

Soon he was walking down Diagon Alley, glancing into shop windows to study his reflection, making sure his scar was hidden.

He hoped no one would recognise him without his glasses. The Daily Profit would have a field day if they found him here the day after his sixteenth birthday.

A pair of small children ran up the street laughing, not yet having to worry about the pains of the war, as they were too young to understand.

Tired smiles and hollow laughter that didn't reach anyone's eyes was all that was left with people dying every day. Harry dreaded seeing the newspaper at times, more stories about the dark mark and the press counting off the days until he left Hogwarts and could go straight to the front line with the Aurors.

Harry reached the doors to Gringott's and a couple of goblins bowed him in. Inside he spotted the most out-of-the-way desk and headed for it. The only other person within twenty feet was a middle-aged woman who looked as though she was sucking on a lemon.

"I would like to make a withdrawal," Harry quietly told a seated goblin.

The creature squinted up at him with clever eyes.

"And you are?" It asked.

"Harry Potter."

The creature's eyes widened and it pressed a black button on the left side of his desk. Two goblins silently appeared behind the seated goblin, holding the chains of what Harry had come to know as Ringers; huge bulldog type creatures with no hair and two heads, when they attacked one head would tear while the other let off a ringing wail to attract attention.

"Mr. Harry Potter wishes to make a withdrawal, accompany him to his vault."

Harry sighed.

If he told them he was definitely capable of taking care of himself, the goblins would take it as an insult.

The middle-aged witch watched with wide eyes as Harry walked towards one of the side doors with the two guards flanking him. He could only hope the seated goblin would encourage her discretion.

After Harry had retrieved as much gold as he would be likely to need, putting it in two separate bags, he went back up and saw the now large group of wizards waiting for him. They had all been talking eagerly to each other and went completely silent as Harry stepped through, thanking his guards and sending them off. A bitter taste rose in his mouth. That woman must have blabbed out to whoever she could get her hands on that Harry Potter was in the bank, completely oblivious to the dangerous situation she was putting not only Harry, but every other person and goblin in the bank in.

"Harry, darling!"

A voice he recognised called to him and a witch started to push her way through the growing crowd.

Harry wanted to growl, but he nodded politely as the woman broke free from the crowd and threw herself at him, latching onto his arm like a leech. Instantly he shook her off and snarled at her.

"Don't touch me!"

The reporter blinked and backed away slightly, Harry could hear her heart speeding up and growing louder in alarm. He sighed and said in a more normal voice. "Ms Skeeter, how are you?"

Since Hermione had trapped Rita in her animagus form she had been a more honest reporter, but that didn't stop her being annoying.

Her alarm dropped and she stepped forward though she didn't touch him, as she usually would have.

"Miss, please Harry. All the better for seeing you, darling, my you sure have grown in more ways than one!" She squealed excitedly and fluttered her fake eyelashes at him in what she though was an attractive way.

"If you would excuse me, Miss Skeeter, I have business to attend to."

He started to walk away but the reporter scuttled after him.

"Well, I'll accompany you, handsome, oh my you really are very handsome, aren't you. Oh, where are your glasses? You look so much better without them! Um, yes, back to business, yesterday if I understand correctly, was your sixteenth birthday?"

Harry could feel the crowd leaning in.

"Yes, that's correct."

Rita clapped her long nailed hands together in joy.

"Wonderful, Harry darling!"

Harry rolled his magnificent eyes and carried on walking over to the exchange desk.

"I'd like to exchange this for muggle money, please," he asked placing a heavy bag on the counter. The goblin nodded and carefully carried it away.

"Going somewhere, Harry?" Rita asked innocently, and a headache started behind Harry's eyes.

"Yes, away from here," he replied slowly and clearly.

Rita raised one manicured eyebrow expectantly.

"I see. Does your leaving the wizarding world until you go back to Hogwarts for your sixth year have anything to do with your inheritance?"

Harry spun around faster than humanly possible again; he wanted to literally bite the nosy woman's head off.

The longhaired boy quickly ran his tongue over his teeth, two of which had lengthened into fangs.

Rita's jaw dropped. Firstly, Potter had spun around faster than she had ever seen; turning that fast should have broken his neck. And secondly, just for a second, she could have sworn that his eyes had been silver, not green.

The crowd had backed slightly away in the face of Harry's anger. But, now that the boy seemed to have taken control of himself, they shuffled forward again to hear what he had to say.

Harry looked at the eager faces and spotted a little girl in a slightly-too-big-uniform of the local orphanage. So many children's lives had been destroyed because of the war, their parents left dead because of a madman who wanted to rule the world. The hope in the little girl's eyes reached out and touched The-Boy-Who-Lived's battered heart. He could not bear to see that small ray of light in the darkness crushed.

The little girl's face was burned into the back of his mind; long, chestnut hair pulled back into an unravelling plait, a small, slender frame dwarfed by the large uniform hanging off her thin shoulders and a small, white face with beautiful big brown eyes shining with hope and trust.

"Yes, it has," Harry stated, his eyes never leaving that of the girl's.

Gasps issued from all around as even the goblins paused in their work to listen.

"Why are you leaving us then?" Rita asked her eyes wide and confused.

"Because until I learn to control 'my inheritance' I will do more damage than good."

Rita's eyes glittered. She smelled a serious story here.

"And what is your inheritance, Harry, darling?"

The fey boy lifted his eyes from the girl and turned them on the blonde woman beside him.

Rita stumbled backwards. The amount of raw power behind that gaze burned into her with a magnitude she could hardly believe. Harry no longer looked liked a handsome if sad teenage boy. Now he looked dark, dangerous and wildly beautiful. He stood with the stance of a tiger, relaxed and casual but hidden underneath an awesome strength. And the reporter knew right there and right then that Harry Potter was the one to beat You-Know-Who. The wizarding world had always hoped he would be the one, but now Rita Skeeter _knew_. He was the only person strong enough, and the terrible power he would wield to complete the task the world had set on his shoulders at the age of fourteen when the Dark Lord was resurrected shone through his emerald eyes.

Harry broke his gaze away when the goblin scuttled back with his bag now full of twenty and ten pound notes.

"There's six hundred and fifty pounds in the bag, sir. Will that be enough?"

Harry nodded his head, said thank you and walked towards the crowd, which he would have to pass through to reach the exit.

He paused and seemed to be making up his mind about something. Then he turned and gracefully knelt down in front of the small girl.

"Hello," he said softly, his musical voice murmuring pleasantly through the air, "what's your name?"

The girl smiled shyly at being directly addressed by Harry Potter, her hero.

"Lily," she whispered.

Harry's breath caught in his throat. Of course, Lily was quite a normal name, so plenty of girls and women must answer to that light, magical sound, but Harry suddenly felt a connection to the small girl in front of him.

"My mother was called Lily," he told her and her big eyes lit up.

"Really?" She asked happily and Harry nodded.

"Isn't there an adult here with you?" He asked a little concerned that the girl seemed to be alone in the middle of a war.

She shook her small head, her plait bumping against her hips.

"No. Zia Anna sent me to buy some food for the new kids arriving."

She stepped sideways, showing a wicker basket almost as big as her body packed with heavy food, which had been hiding behind her.

"I was just heading back when I heard someone say that Harry Potter was inside the bank. So I came in to see you."

The corner of Harry's lips quirked into a small smile.

"I'm not that special, am I?"

Lily nodded her head fervently.

"My mummy used to say that you were our guardian angel, and that you'd been born to protect the wizarding world."

There was that word again. Angel. Dudley had called him a fallen angel, and the text on vampires said they, vampires, had also been called fallen angels since the ninth century because they had black wings, were beautiful and flew at night, now he was a guardian angel as well? But Lily carried on speaking.

"So whenever I get scared, like when the bad men took mummy and daddy away to heaven, I would think of you and everything would be okay because I knew you were watching over me, keeping me safe."

Harry was about to open his mouth to say 'but I'm just human' when he remembered that he wasn't human, not anymore.

Harry smiled at the pretty little girl in front of him.

"I am honoured to be your guardian angel, Lily."

Lily squealed in joy and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him fiercely, as if afraid he would disappear any moment. Harry found he didn't mind having this innocent child touch him instead he seemed to draw strength from her warmth. There was a great 'ahhhhhh' from the surrounding witches and wizards, plus the annoying click of several cameras and Harry had a sneaking suspicion that the intimate picture of him and Lily hugging would be on the front page of tomorrow's Daily Prophet.

Harry gently released the child and took her hand, picking up the basket in his other hand as if it weighed nothing at all, which to him it did.

"Come on, Lily, I'll walk you back to the orphanage."

Lily smiled up at him with joy and trust shining in her big brown eyes.

They walked towards the entrance, the witches and wizards parting before them and camera flashes still going off so someone could prove to their friends that they had been in Gringott's at the same time as the mighty Harry Potter.

Then the emerald-eyed boy's newly sharpened ears caught a whispered conversation, taking place at the edge of the crowd.

"I'm telling you, Pettigrew, now is the perfect time to take Potter out for our Lord."

"Oh? And why is that?"

"You fucking numbskull! Do I have to spell it out for you? Well I guess I do. Potter's just told us that he'll be staying in the muggle world until the start of Hogwarts. That's six weeks away!"

"And?"

"Idiot! Well, if we take him out now, no one will miss him until the start of Hogwarts, giving our master plenty of time to organise his troops for world domination."

"Oh, I get it!"

"Finally."

"But-"

"What man? Spit it out!"

"Did you see the power in him? And did you hear what he said? He's going away until he can learn to control his inheritance."

"Better we attack him now then, while he still can't control it."

"I dunno. It sounds as if he's gotten really powerful."

"Fine. We'll get a couple of the lads to help us. Four wizards against a sixteen year old and a little girl? You do the maths Wormtail."

"All right. Sounds safe enough, lets go get the guys quickly."

Harry lead Lily down the white marble steps outside with his jaw tight in anger. He wasn't worried about himself, but they planned to attack him while he was with Lily: a defenceless, innocent child. Well, he had a few unpleasant surprises in store for them.

Harry's sharp eyes saw Lily staring longingly into a sweet shop window as they passed.

"I'm starved. Shall we go buy some sweets?" Harry casually asked.

Lily almost bounced up and down in her joy.

"Yes please!"

Ten minutes later the two exited the shop with Lily happily munching on a chocolate frog and the basket weighed down with some lovely surprises for her friends.

"Now, which way's the orphanage?" Harry asked.

Lily's mouth was full of chocolate so she took his hand and pointed down a small, cobbled street.

As they walked further away from the main shopping centre, it got quieter and quieter.

For Lily, it was deadly silent and she nervously gripped her hero's hand a bit tighter.

For Harry though, with his vampire senses, the place was still alive.

His sharp eyes easily spotted the rat following them down the street, but this rat had a silver paw and it didn't smell quite right either.

Harry smiled grimly as he heard the footfalls of three other death eaters trailing them. Today was the day when Pettigrew would be brought to justice and Harry was itching to try out his newfound speed and strength to the full.

Harry spotted what he needed: a little alcove off to one side, which he led Lily over to.

He set down the basket and kneeled in front of the small girl.

"There are some bad men following us, Lily, so I have to go and care of them. Now, I need you to stay here. I promise I won't let you get hurt okay?"

Lily's eyes widened in fear and tears welled in them.

"You won't go away and never come back like mummy and daddy?"

Harry shook his head.

"No, I won't."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"'Cos the bad men made mummy and daddy go to heaven and left me alone. I saw them make mummy and daddy go, they used a spell that made green light."

Fury rose in Harry like a tidal wave.

This sweet child had seen her parents murdered before her very eyes by some prejudice bastards who though they were better than most. They were worse than scum.

"I'll be back, just stay here," he managed to keep the anger from his voice as he kissed her on the forehead and stepped out to meet the source of his anger.

They were getting closer and he almost pitied them for what they were about to get themselves into.

Almost.

They paused just around the corner from Harry and he could smell their nervousness.

He snorted.

"Do hurry up. I haven't got all day," he called, mocking them.

The nervousness changed to fear and they still didn't come from around the corner.

Harry's patience snapped.

"Get a fucking move on!" He ordered, and finally three robed and hooded death eaters shuffled around the corner, making a pathetic attempt to be frightening.

"About time," Harry snarled. "Any longer and I would have dragged you out by the ears."

That seemed to annoy one of the death eaters.

"You seem awfully cocky for someone who's outnumbered three to one and doesn't even have a wand!" He spat.

The other two death eaters noticed this and their fear dropped.

Harry looked casually at his nails, as if what the death eaters were saying wasn't worth his time.

"Well, yes. But you three look so trollish that you'll probably trip over your own feet, and you wouldn't know a good hex if it hit you in the bloody face."

Harry could almost smell the leading death eater go purple.

"Why, you little bastard! I'm going to enjoy making you scream before I kill you, Potter!"

Harry smirked mockingly.

"I think that you will find that you and your lapdogs are the ones who'll end up doing the screaming."

Nearly epileptic with rage the leading death eater sent the Cruciatus curse at the emerald-eyed boy, who sidestepped it looking bored. The death eater bellowed and sent hexes flying thick and fast, but Harry avoided them all with the mocking ease, and with each curse dodged he got a little closer to the three cowled men.

The leading death eater appeared to be at his wit's end and as hexes didn't seem to work he pocketed his wand and threw himself at the teenager with his friends closely following.

A fist flew towards Harry's face so he just leaned out of the way and let it sail harmlessly past. The next fist went towards his stomach. He knocked it out of the way, spun and delivered a punch in the guts hard enough to throw the lackey across the small street. The man slammed into the opposite wall and slumped to the ground unconscious. The other lackey Harry took down with a vicious kick to the kneecaps, shattering them. Then, as the man dropped to the ground screaming Harry kicked him again across the face, breaking his nose and knocking him out.

A sharp pain suddenly tore through his shoulder and he growled under his breath as blood began to saturate his black shirt.

The slight teenager turned around to face the remaining death eater. The quaking man had fired a silent slashing spell at him while his back was turned, just like the shitless little man he was. It had caught him on the shoulder and although it was bleeding a lot it was only shallow.

"This shirt was a Christmas present, you prick," Harry snapped.

The man's eyes behind his mask widened as he saw the wound slowly knit back together.

"W-what the hell are you?" He gibbered.

Harry stood there enjoying the moment, dressed all in black with his long hair floating around his slim body, framing his terrible but beautiful face. A slow, cruel smirk slid across his full lips, and his incredible eyes narrowed cruelly.

"Your worst nightmare," he hissed then pounced before the man could even blink.

The vampire teenager grabbed the death eater by the neck and lifted him off his feet as he had done to Vernon. But, unlike with Vernon, Harry didn't put the man down again as the death eater started to choke. A stench reached Harry's sharp nose and he realised that the choking man had wet himself in fear. The dark haired boy managed to ignore the smell as he focused on the man's pounding heartbeat, listening to it get slower and slower as the man's eyes rolled back in his head. When Harry reckoned the man was unconscious he dropped him and the death eater did not rise. Harry glanced around at his handy work and rolled his eyes. He reckoned he hadn't even used half of his speed or strength, so he hadn't received the full workout he'd been longing for.

Something in the back of Harry's mind was clamouring for attention, saying that he'd forgotten something or someone.

"Turn around slowly and keep your hands where I can see them or I kill her," a trembling voice squeaked from behind him and Harry could have beheaded himself if there had been an axe handy.

Peter Pettigrew.

Harry turned slowly, keeping his hands spread in front of him.

The rat of a man stood in the alcove, one hand yanking Lily's slender arms painfully behind her back, the other held a wand to her pale throat.

The girl's eyes were wide, terrified and brimming with tears. She was visibly trembling as she stared mutely at Harry.

"If you let her go, perhaps I won't kill you," Harry said softly.

Wormtail gave a short bark of a laugh but Harry could still smell the fear coming off him in thick waves.

"I don't think you're in any position to give threats, Potter! No, I'll just take dear little Lily, was it, here with me as I walk away, and you're going to let me."

Harry said nothing as his thoughts whirred desperately. If he moved to push Wormtail away from Lily, even with his speed, Pettigrew could still fire a spell by accident, or even some sparks that could hit Lily. What he really needed to do was to scare Wormtail so much that he would just drop Lily and run like the coward he was. The young vampire thought back over the things he'd read about his new species: holding his breath for several hours wouldn't help, nor walking on water or talking to 'dark' animals. But hadn't it said about vampires having wings, and being able to do wandless magic? Once Harry had decided on a plan he focused back on what Wormtail was still going on about.

"-such a pretty little thing to. I dare say a few death eaters may want to 'taste' her, myself included."

The fat, balding man sniggered nastily, then leaned down and nuzzled Lily's neck.

The poor child let out one single, petrified whimper and Harry, knowing the pain and humiliation of rape, went mad.

A snarl that would have made Remus Lupin proud brought Wormtail's head up. The long haired boy thought about sinking deadly fangs into that fat neck and ripping it open, letting the blood run like a crimson river to the ground. Of finally delivering the revenge Sirius had so desperately wanted to deliver while his Godfather had been alive.

Peter Pettigrew's eyes widened as Harry changed; his emerald eyes seemed to glow for a moment as silver flooded them, making his eyes look like green and silver storms. His lips became redder as blood was pumped into them and his perfect skin took on a translucent glow, as though moonlight was shining through underneath.

The-Boy-Who-Lived focused on the wings in his back and felt them respond; two wings, blacker than a nightmare, ripped out of his back and through his shirt with a splatter of blood though Harry felt no pain. They were taller than him and their tips brushed the ground. Harry flapped them experimentally and decided he was really looking forward to flying without a broomstick.

He smiled, closed lipped, at the frozen Wormtail, then, he slowly let his lips part.

With a cry of horror Peter threw Lily at Harry's feet and backed away.

Harry quickly pulled the dazed girl behind him, shielding her with his wings. Then he looked at the trembling man in front of him with disgust. Wormtail hadn't thrown Lily at Harry to give her back; no he'd thrown her at Harry's feet like an adult throwing a child at the feet of wolves. So the monsters would stop to devour the child while the spineless adult got away. It was time for Harry to find out just what spells he could do without a wand, so he chose some simple but effective ones.

"Expelliarmus!"

Instantly Pettigrew's wand flew out of his chubby fingers and the sheer power of the spell threw him back against the wall, almost knocking him out.

"Pertrificus totalius!"

Wormtail's body went as stiff as a board and clattered to the ground. Only his eyes could move and they looked up at Harry in terror.

Harry snarled like a wolf and prowled forward. The sleek boy knelt gracefully next to the frozen wizard.

"Now. If you tell anyone what I am I will tear your throat out and drink you dry. I managed to steal with one of your lackey's wands and 'dealt' with you all. Do you understand? Blink twice for yes."

There were two hurried blinks and Harry let a nasty smirk slide across his face.

"So glad we understand each other Wormtail, and now you're going to get the payback you deserve for betraying my parents and dear Sirius to their deaths."

Pettigrew's eyes widened desperately but he couldn't do anything on the hard, cobbled ground.

Harry ignored the traitor and turned back to Lily, who was staring at him in wide-eyed shock. Harry opened his mouth to speak and the child gave a small squeak of fear as her eyes fixed on his fangs. Scolding himself mentally, Harry knelt down and held out a slim hand.

"I'm not going to hurt you Lily. I would never hurt you, pumpkin."

A nameless emotion flickered across Lily's small face before she frowned determinedly, as only a child could, and stepped forward.

She walked directly up to Harry and stopped mere inches from his body.

The brown-eyed girl reached forward with one small hand and ran it over the vampire boy's beautiful face, as if memorising every last detail. Then the child slowly reached over his broad shoulder and touched one of the midnight black wings, seeming to not quite believe they were there until she touched them. Lily ran her hand over the wondrously silky feathers, her eyes fell shut and she gently lifted her hand away.

"You really are my guardian angel," she whispered happily, before opening her eyes and staring directly into Harry's silver and green swirling ones.

The longhaired boy smiled gently at her before focusing slightly. He felt his teeth retract; his eyes go back to normal and his wings slide back into his back. A single black feather fluttered to the ground. Harry stooped, picked it up and slid it into his pocket.

"C'mon. We'd better get you back to the orphanage."

Suddenly there was a series of pops around them as about twenty ministry wizards apparated into the small street. After a few minutes of checking the new prisoners, a familiar voice called out.

"Harry! Are you all right?" Harry turned to see Mr. Weasley running towards him.

The flame haired man raised his arms to hug the boy who he loved like a son, but Harry raised a hand and backed away: Mr. Weasley's red hair strongly reminding him of the red haired boy who had raped him with the dark head and Dudley.

Mr. Weasley, newly promoted to a much more influential position, blinked in surprise at Harry's backing away, obviously wanting not to be touched. Arthur blinked again at the lack of glasses on the boys face, and how, without them the teenager was practically unrecognisable.

"I'm fine Mr. Weasley. I was just walking Lily back to the orphanage when four death eaters jumped us. I managed to get a wand off one and used disarming and stunning spells to deal with them."

Mr. Weasley breathed a sigh of relief and moved to absent mindedly pat the teenager on the shoulder, but Harry quickly took a step back again and Mr Weasley frowned in worry.

"As long as you're okay?"

"We're fine, Mr. Weasley."

Arthur blinked a further time and looked down. He almost jumped when he saw a pretty little girl of around six years old clinging to Harry's black clad leg.

"Hello dear." Mr. Weasley instantly cooed as he knelt down in front of her. The girl looked at him wearily and clung tighter to Harry's leg.

"Harry will make you go away if you're nasty. He's my guardian angel."

Arthur chuckled.

"I'm sure he can make me go away, but I'm not here to hurt you my dear."

She still seemed a little bit hesitant and Harry placed one slender hand on her head to reassure her. The little girl sighed, closed her eyes, and leaned happily into the touch. Mr Weasley stared; he had never thought that Harry would be so good with children.

"Mr. Weasley."

Arthur surfaced from his thoughts and focused on Harry.

As the long haired boy stood there Mr Weasley found himself musing how Harry had managed to get a wand off one of the death eaters while they all would have been firing dark curses at him and how he had finished them off so thoroughly that three of them would very likely be spending several weeks unconscious in St Mungo's, one with serious bruising to the gut and ribs, another with shattered knee caps, a broken nose and a concussion and the third with bad bruising around his neck and his throat almost swollen shut, not to mention the fact that the last one had wet himself from fear. He hadn't yet looked at the forth man and didn't know the damage, but he assumed that he was the same as the others.

Arthur Weasley knew Harry was a formidable duller for his age – he'd heard Ron, the twins and Ginny rant about his talent often enough over the past year, especially after the DA was set up - but the older man hadn't though Harry had progressed to the point of being able to take on four fully trained Death Eaters alone. Even the best Aurors took years to get that skilled!

So what had Harry done?

Mr. Weasley had always looked at Harry as the small, twelve-year-old, skinny boy he had been when he first meet him. Now the older man found himself taking another look and what he saw floored him.

Completely gone was the tiny, skinny boy with messy hair and nervous eyes half hidden behind glasses. In front of the red haired man stood a sixteen year old, tall and slim with iron hard muscles hidden underneath silky, pale skin. His hair was no longer messy; it just floated in a midnight black waterfall down his back. His eyes were no longer nervous, now they were steel hard, filled with a raw power that left Mr. Weasley as breathless as Rita Skeeter. And they were so old. The type of oldness that quietly said that this child had had grown up too soon. This child had seen too many things to be considered a child, and that this child had learned more things in his short sixteen years than most people learned in a lifetime.

"Yes Harry?"

The vampire boy stared at the man who had treated him like a son.

"When you see who the forth death eater is, believe me, it is him, no mistake this time. I suggest Veritaserum, just please don't ask him what happened in the fight. Make sure that the interrogation is done in front of the whole of the Wizengamot, it is long past time for Sirius to get his due."

Before Mr. Weasley could open his mouth to reply, excitement rising inside of him, a young ministry wizard ran up to him completely frantic.

"Sir! Sir! You won't believe who the forth captive is!"

He led Mr. Weasley over to the alcove, practically bouncing up and down to get Arthur to hurry up. Mr. Weasley was tempted to snap at the younger man, but when he looked down at the frozen man lying on the ground with his eyes squeezed shut, as if he could make everything go away if he couldn't see anything, all thoughts of snapping left Arthur's head.

"We've checked him for glamour's sir, in case it's a hoax, and he's clean. This really is him if that's bloody possible."

Arthur looked down at their captive's right hand and saw it was silver.

"Well, well. Peter Pettigrew, you made the little mistake of trying to take Harry on so soon after his Godfather's death."

Pettigrew's eyes shot open at the sound of his name and he looked up at Arthur in terror.

"He will be question by me myself later today before the Wizengamot. Veritaserum will be used. Get back to headquarters and contact Dumbeldore immediately."

The younger man bowed.

"Yes sir! At once sir!"

Arthur sighed.

"Now, Harry-" he began, turning back to ask the boy why he was in Diagon Alley in the first place. But neither Harry, nor the little girl was there.

The fiery haired man stared up and down the cobbled street, but apart from some ministry wizards, the prisoners, several gathering spectators and Rita Skeeter cornering a younger employee to tell her what happened, there was no one else in sight.

It was as if they'd vanished off the face of the earth.

As Arthur apparated back to the ministry headquarters he decided to talk to Dumbeldore about the boy after the questioning.

But the caring man was still struggling to choose whether to leave his youngest son in ignorant bliss or to tell him that something very strange was going on with his best friend.


	2. Alone Again

Author notes: Hiya everyone, well here's the second chapter! Thanks to all the wonderful people who reviewed hands out cookies Please remember that I always value your comments! Just to let you know that I picture Harry in a manga style whenever I write about him and have several pictures drawn of him but no where to post them! Oh, and 'Zia' means aunt in Italian (you'll see when you get there!) Lastly hugs to my beta – Aleena Malfoy, you rock!

Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me in any way, shape, or form (only in my darker dreams sniggers) but any characters that you don't recognise from the books do belong to me clutches Lily and Griffin

Warning: This story is full to bursting with slash, which is boy/boy beautiful lovin'! There's also rape, bad language, depression, self-mutilation (not yet) and other dark, angsty things!

Well 'k I'm done blabbing now so enjoy and please R&R!

Chapter two - Alone again

Harry slowed down as the orphanage came into view. It was a lovely, large Victorian house with ivy climbing up the sides and a wonderfully huge garden behind a twelve foot rusty red wall.

The longhaired boy stopped in front of the gate and put Lily down gently.

When Mr. Weasley had been dragged off to see Pettigrew, Harry had grabbed his chance by the throat. He picked Lily up in one arm and the bulging basket in the other, and then sprinted down the cobbled street as fast as he could, which for a human being would have been impossibly fast.

He had had to get away from the man otherwise he'd have had to go back to the Burrow.

Harry loved the Weasley's like the family he'd never had, but they were very touchy: always kissing, hugging, patting, or holding each other. The very last thing Harry wanted was to be trapped in a crowded house with untrained and untested vampire powers, full of touching red heads. Hopefully he'd be a little better by Hogwarts. He didn't want to have to explain to his friends why he couldn't bear to have them go near him.

Lily had enjoyed the fast ride down the street away from all the strange, shouting men, so she whimpered when Harry put her down.

"We're here Lily," the dark haired boy said softly.

Lily took one look at the orphanage and threw herself at the teenager, clinging to him desperately.

"No! No! I don't want to go back! I want to stay with you!"

Harry carefully untangled the little chestnut haired girl and knelt down in front of her sadly.

"Oh Lily, I would take you with me if I could but I'm too dangerous. I have all these new powers I don't know how to control and I have bad men after me all the time."

Lily's beautiful eyes filled with silver tears. They swelled, broke, and fell down her soft cheeks.

"But you're my guardian angel," she whispered.

Harry wiped away the tears and pulled her into a tight hug as she wailed on his shoulder.

"That's right pumpkin. I am and always will be."

Suddenly a thought occurred to him and he reached down into one of the pockets on his black trousers and pulled out the black feather that had fallen from his wings.

"Here, pumpkin. Look."

Lily turned a tear stained face towards the silky feather sitting in her hero's pale hand.

"You know this is from part of me; my wings." Harry started and she nodded, "right, well I'm giving this to you to always carry. If you ever get in trouble and need me to protect you just pull out the feather, think very hard of me and say my name three times, and I promise, no matter where I am, I'll come running to look after you."

Lily smiled as she delicately picked it up out of Harry's hands and cradled it close to her small body.

Harry leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on her soft forehead.

As he pulled away he saw a tiny blue light, almost too quick for even his sharp eyes to see, jump from his lips to her head.

He puzzled momentarily over it while Lily started to search frantically through the large pockets on her baggy uniform.

"I can't find anything!" She squeaked, her plait almost quivering in her frustration.

"Anything for what?" Harry asked.

She looked up at him, her brown eyes going wide with disbelief, as if she couldn't understand why Harry didn't know what she was going on about.

"To tie to the feather so I can wear it as a necklace, silly!"

Harry thought briefly then pulled a thin leather cord from his pocket. He used it to tie back his hair but he could easily get another.

"Here," he murmured, gently taking the feather from her. He found a perfect hole at the base of the feather and threaded the cord through. It fit perfectly. The vampire boy sighed; it looked like Lady Fate had favoured him again.

Lily turned around and pulled her thick plait out of the way. Harry lifted the new necklace over her head and tied it in a secure knot, leaving it long enough that she could pull it off if she needed to.

The little girl turned and looked expectantly up at the longhaired boy. Harry smiled gently.

"It looks beautiful on you, pumpkin."

She beamed happily before tucking her new necklace under her uniform.

"C'mon, let's take you in. I'm sure all your friends are dying to see what you've brought."

Lily reluctantly nodded, her big eyes downcast, as Harry pushed open the rusty gate. He picked up the basket, took her hand and led her up the paved path with the wild herbs spilling over the edges of the borders on either side and shy flowers poking their delicate heads through the green foliage.

Before they reached the large oak front door, it opened of its own accord and a motherly looking, plump woman stepped out. She was wearing a rich blue robe under a thick white apron. Her thick mahogany hair had been tied back in a loose knot and slivers had slyly fallen out, framing her warm face.

"Oh, Lily! Thank goodness! When I hear there another attack just down the street I panic. But Sally, she is still too ill to look after the other children so I can't leave to go look for you."

Lily smiled at the woman who spoke with a thick Italian accent.

"I'm okay, Zia Anna," she twirled around to emphasise her point; "See, all here, Harry saved me form the bad men."

Anna stepped forward, squinting at Harry in the sunlight.

A soft breeze played down the street, teasing the ivy choking the house in its death grip and lifting the ebony hair gently from Harry's face, dancing with the inky black strands through the wind and revealing his thin lightning bolt scar.

Anna clapped a hand to her full chest in surprise.

"Aiee! Harry Potter! You save our little Lily! Gracie! Thank you! Come in, please!"

The woman practically pulled Harry into the house and the fey boy found himself in a handsome hallway with mahogany panels on the rich green walls.

Harry and Lily were led down the hall and into a huge, Victorian style kitchen where the dishes were washing themselves in the huge stone basin sink and stacking themselves neatly on the wooden draining board.

"You stay for dinner?" Anna asked Harry.

Although the vampire boy needed never to eat human food again, he knew it would be rude if he refused and he wanted to stay with Lily in this peaceful world of pretend a while longer before he had to go back and face grim reality.

"I'd love to."

Anna squealed for joy and blew a kiss at him.

Lily giggled at Harry's bemused expression until Anna spun around and planted a huge, wet, sloppy kiss on her cheek.

"Matron!" Lily squealed and Anna - or matron - laughed.

"I just happy you are safe. Now let us see what you have brought for dinner!"

The motherly lady pounced on the basket and soon was bustling around the huge kitchen, cooking muggle style and thoroughly enjoying herself as only a full blooded Italian can in a kitchen with good food.

"Lily, why don't you take Harry out to meet all the other children?"

Lily nodded, grasped Harry's slender but strong hand and led him out of the steamy kitchen, down the hall and into a conservatory. Harry's sharp eyes could see through the misty glass and out into the sunlit garden beyond. About fifteen children were running back and forth, squealing and shouting in joy. Harry smiled softly, but in that smile lay a sadness that even most adults who have lived a long and harsh life couldn't even begin to touch on or comprehend. He was glad there was still innocent laughter in the dark times and he worried about how it would eventually be stolen away from every single one of those children unless something was done. Another burden was placed on his already weary shoulders.

A thought occurred to him. A sudden hand reached out and gently gripped Lily's thin shoulder.

"Lily," the pale boy's musical voice quavered out onto the heavy air.

"Yes?" The child asked.

Harry hesitated before slowly letting the words that needed to be said spill from his full lips.

"I told you before that bad men are always after me, and it's true, and that's why they can't find out about me, not my wings, not my fangs, not my magic or about me being your guardian angel."

Lily's eyes widened as she began to understand, Harry continued.

"If they do find out, they will know how to make me go to heaven. I'll have to leave you alone. That's why no one must find out, meaning you can't even tell your friends or matron."

Harry cursed himself a thousand different types of painful death as he said the next six words, hating himself for using Lily's innocence against her.

"It's just our little secret, right?"

The girl looked a little upset that she couldn't tell her friends about her cool guardian angel.

"Okay, Harry, just our little secret," she intoned.

Harry could have killed himself quite happily as Lily led him out into the sunlit garden.

Boys and girls between the ages of two to ten, all in the small orphanage uniform, were running back and forth over the soft, rich grass, playing a game of tag with a fairy.

The beautiful creature chased a small girl with mousy brown hair across the lawn, the fairy's soft pink dress shimmering in the light, her waist length blond hair sparkling, her delicate wings flashing and her glowing blue eyes laughing.

As soon as Harry placed his booted feet upon the lush green blades the fluttering woman froze in mid-air.

The creature turned questioningly and almost fell to the ground when she saw the darkly beautiful teenager holding hands with one of the orphans.

She quickly flew over and circled Harry, looking him up and down.

Lily and the other children were oblivious to the strange behaviour of Sakishma - their garden fairy who had always played with the children. They were all too busy tossing 'hellos' back and forth with other childish banter.

Sakishma the fairy drew level with Harry's eyes and stared into the endless emerald depths.

/I know what you are boy./

The wise but sweet voice directly inside his head almost made him jump.

You won't tell anyone? Harry tiredly asked back.

The fairy shook her blond head and smiled.

/No, but have you killed anyone/

No. Came Harry's quiet but hard reply.

Sakishma doubled over laughing in the air.

/Good/

Hang on. I thought vampires could only speak to dark creatures.

The fairy alighted on his shoulder and they turned to watch the children have a playful wrestling match while the two magical creatures carried on talking in the privacy of their heads.

/That's because the book you probably read was written by a human. They can't possibly find out everything about vampires unless they become them. Light creatures just usually prefer not to talk to vampires./

But why? Harry asked. Sakishma sighed.

/We don't because a lot of you went over to Voldemort. Your kind killed needlessly and enjoyed it. You sunk back into the monsters you used to be./

We can't be all like that. I'm not.

The fairy leaned over and patted the pale boy on his silky cheek.

/I know that. We all do. But unfortunately most of you have gone over to the dark and don't want to come back. We turned our backs on a once noble race who now kill for pleasure, more than a need to./

Harry stared sightlessly at Lily who was rolling on the rich grass with the mousy haired girl.

What if I don't want to kill at all? Not even if I have to.

Sakishma flew off his shoulder and hovered in front of his emerald eyes. She looked much older, as wise as her years.

/You are a vampire now, boy. A very long life lies before you. At some point in your life you will kill because you have to./

The young vampire felt a great weight settle over his tired heart.

"Harry!" A cry raised the raven-haired boys head. Lily had disentangled herself from the other children and was running towards him with her arms held open.

Harry was at a loss for what she wanted. Sakishma giggled at his confusion.

/She wants you to pick her up and swing her around before hugging her. It's how the children show each other they've found someone they want to adopt them, kind of like an innocent ritual./

Lily was now almost on top of him so he leaned down, scooped her up, swung her around before hugging her close. She wrapped her slim arms around his neck and pressed her soft cheek against his.

It was a moving moment. A young vampire brought back from the black brink of despair by a child who understood the loneliness of being an orphan: a little girl who loves a creature of the night, something that was shunned and feared by all humans.

"Oh, how sweet!"

The rich voice echoed across the garden, Harry and Lily's eyes shot open.

The longhaired boy turned, still holding Lily in his arms, to see an old woman in a simple black robe with a plain white shawl wrapped around her slim shoulders. Her hair was pure white and thick, pulled back into a loose bun at the base of her neck. Her skin was the colour and texture of old parchment, but it was her eyes that captivated Harry the most, a bright ice blue, twinkling with laughter making her look much younger. They were the same as Albus Dumbledore's. She smiled warmly.

"I see our little Lily has picked you."

It was not a question but a fact.

"I am Sally."

The name rang like a bell in Harry's head.

"Anna said you were ill."

Sally sighed and sagged. The shawl slipped down her arms and she paused briefly to wrap it around her shoulders again before answering.

"I am."

"But you sm ...seem fine."

The old woman smiled softly, she had caught the slip in Harry's speech.

"Children. Go in and wash for lunch. You to, Lily."

The children sulked and Lily looked like she was going to cry until Harry whispered into her ear.

"I promised, Lily. I'm your guardian angel and will always be with you in some way."

She nodded her small head making her plait bump against her hips, gave him a kiss on the cheek, then he put her down on the grass and she ran inside the great Victorian house.

The dark haired boy turned immediately to the woman.

"Now will you tell me?" He asked.

She raised a slender white eyebrow.

"You don't give up do you."

Another fact, Harry shrugged.

"It's not my way."

Sally nodded.

"Then I will answer your question. My body is not physically ill but my soul is spiritually."

Harry stared at her, perfect face emotionless, but bewilderment filling his mind.

The soft breeze slowly stirred his inky black hair and the sunlight making his eyes sparkle and pale skin glow. He looked unearthly beautiful, like if anyone were to touch him he would vanish like the mist at dawn.

"Have you ever heard of a Tuner, boy?"

Harry nodded his head. Flitwick had taught the 5th years about them when they were looking at emotion charms.

"A Tuner is very rare; a person born with the ability to tune into the feelings and auras of people around them."

Sally looked pleased, her white hair flashing in the strong sun.

"I can see you've been doing your homework, boy."

Harry felt a tiny prick of indignation and then a twisted form of relief that someone might still think him innocent and naive enough to call him 'boy'.

"And when did your Tuner powers develop?"

She laughed, it sounded like a bubbling brook.

"Very good! I became a Tuner when I went through puberty."

She levelled her gaze at him. Sparkling electric blue met glowing emerald green and the birds singing in the trees around them were suddenly silent. The only noise throughout the whole of the garden were the faint yells of children from the huge house, the whisper of the wind and to Harry the flutter of Sakishma's wings.

"Now I will ask you a question, boy," Sally's voice was monotone.

The pale boy stayed silent, his jet-black strands playing in the breeze.

"How long ago did you last drink from someone?"

It struck him like a knife, piercing him right to the scarred heart.

She knew.

Just like Sakishma knew.

"Do I have a sign over my head saying 'I'm a vampire. Stake me!'"

To Harry's relief, his well-placed words broke the tense atmosphere. Sally chuckled and took a step towards him while Sakishma settled back on his shoulder.

"No, boy I can see it in your aura. You should thank whatever Gods you vampires worship that Tuners are so rare."

Now Harry was curious.

"How can you tell that by looking at my aura?"

The old woman pulled a wand from her robe pocket and conjured up two garden chairs for them.

"Not as young as I used to be," she grumbled as she settled herself before she lent back in a business like manner and steepled her bony fingers.

"Humans have only primary and secondary colours in their aura, never black, white, silver or gold. Immortals, or any type of magical creature, are a different story; they can have any colour and most have at least six at one time.

"The part of your aura indicating you're a new vampire is the green and silver closest to your body, for the moment it's more green than silver, showing that you're freshly changed, but it will soon be more silver than green. The outer colours show your personality, past, future, and how strong you are physically, mentally, spiritually and magically."

Harry sat there on the metal chair with a bemused expression on his beautiful face.

"You can tell all that just by looking at me?"

Sally nodded her white head seriously and the quiet boy slumped back in despair.

"Damn. I suppose I've got to be thankful Voldemort isn't a Tuner then, or he'd be able to knock me flat!"

"Lunch!" Zia Anna's voice rang out from the house.

Sally smiled, she was tempted to reach out and pat Harry on the knee like she would do for an upset child but she knew she'd more hurt than heal him by touching him.

"Lily will miss you if you don't go."

Harry nodded, his emerald eyes flashing in the midday sun. He stood, bowed his head in way of thanks and strode back towards the shade of inside.

Sally watched him go, watched the way he seemed to pull the darkness around him in a cloak: a real child of the night.

/I agree./ The wise voice arrived in her head as Sakishma flew over and settled on Sally's black clad knee, spreading her light dress out around her and lazily opening and closing her vibrant wings, soaking in the warm sun.

Sally glanced warily back at the house where Harry had disappeared into the dark interior.

"But I held back Sakishma, I didn't tell him everything, so he is unprepared for what is to come."

/What do you mean Sally? Did you lie to him/

The old woman sighed and let her tired eyes fall shut.

"No. I just didn't tell him the one thing that could mean the outcome of this entire war. I didn't tell him why Voldemort is and has always been after him, besides that damn prophecy, I mean. You know that by judging a person's true magical potential is by the amount of colours around their body?"

/Yes./

"Most people and magical creatures have seven at most. Harry had fifteen and while I watched another colour was added, he's still getting stronger."

Sakishma was silent. For the first time in five hundred years she was speechless.

"And I know of only two people who have auras similar to him."

/Who/

"Tom Riddle and Draco Malfoy. The second turned sixteen a week ago."

/What are you going to do/

Sally held out her hand and Sakishma jumped onto it.

The old woman stood and hitched her shawl up around her bony shoulders.

"Write to my brother."

And she walked back into the cool shade of the house.

Lunch had been spectacular.

Unfortunately for Harry it had been no where near as filling nor as satisfying as warm blood pumping from a strong vein, filling his mouth with rich life.

He knew he would have to feed again soon. The text on vampires had said new Fallen Angels had to feed daily until their body had completely adjusted to the change, which usually took a few weeks.

Afterwards he played with Lily and the other children until they were sent to their daily lesson.

Lily knew that when she'd come back Harry would be gone. It was a long, teary goodbye filled with warm hugs and gentle kisses on the forehead and cheek. Lily wanted to give Harry part of herself as he had so she asked Matron to cut off a lock of her thick chestnut hair. After the kind Italian had done so the child rushed up to her dorm to get something after giving Harry strict instructions not to move. When she came back she was holding a simple but beautiful bracelet in her small hands.

"It was my mummy's," was all she said before opening a hidden catch. A single emerald that graced the centre of the silver chain sprang open to reveal a secret compartment. Lily carefully placed the curl of soft hair inside and shut it with a gentle click.

"Promise me you'll always wear it."

Harry smiled, then realised she was the only person he truly smiled at anymore unless it was for sarcasm. He took the bracelet and slipped it on his right wrist.

"Promise."

A last hug and kiss, then Lily went to her lesson with silent tears streaming down her cheeks.

Harry watched the only person who loved him for truly being himself, not the saviour of the wizarding world, not James Potter's son, not the golden Gryffindor Seeker, just Harry - a beaten and depressed vampire who wanted to be left alone.

He heard the heartbeats behind him and turned to see Sally and Zia Anna quietly standing in the kitchen doorway, watching him.

"Could I have a word before I leave?"

"Have several boy. Follow me," was all Sally said - just the sort of thing Dumbledore would say.

She led the dark young vampire and Anna down the hall and into a homely study with bookcases full to bursting with volumes of all shapes and sizes. A filing cabinet was between a couple of them, painted a bright purple. A large desk stood in the centre of the room with two padded velvet chairs before it. Sally settled herself behind the desk while Harry and Anna made themselves comfy in the velvet chairs.

"I will get straight to the point. I want to adopt Lily as soon as possible. I am only sixteen and don't yet have a place of my own, plus Voldemort has me at the top of his 'hard nut to crack' list and I'm still in Hogwarts."

Sally reached into a drawer, pulled out a stack of papers and thumped them down in front of Harry then pushed an eagle feather quill and a pot of navy blue ink over.

"Sign these."

He signed then the whole thing flew up into the air and dived in an open drawer of the purple filling cabinet.

"You are now the legal guardian of Lily Potter."

The Gryffindor blinked. Surely there was more to it then that, what if he was secretly an axe murderer. A mental shrug later he decided that he still had a lot to learn about the wizarding world, then a barely noticeable wistful smile passed across Harry's lips at the name.

"I can't take her with me where I'm going."

The old woman nodded briskly.

"Of course not. Once you get back to Hogwarts she will join you there, until then we'll look after her."

The vampire boy sagged in relief.

"Thank you."

Zia Anna tried to give him a hug, but he flinched away. Not giving up she told him over and over again how happy she was for him and Lily as they walked down the hall to the front door. Sally walked slightly behind them, smiling cheekily as Harry looked desperately to her. Now standing on the path outside the impressive front door Harry said goodbye. Anna burst into tears and had to run back inside to find a hanky. Then Sally surprised the emerald-eyed boy, though he didn't let the emotion show on his face.

"Good luck, Harry. Now I suggest you go to Evergreen Village by train from King's Cross. You'll find someone there who can teach you about your 'skills'."

He nodded his thanks, turned and walked down the path, not once looking back.

Harry slipped into the cobbled lane with the stealth of an assassin. He padded off silently, back towards the main shopping centre of Diagon Alley, determined to finish off what he had come to do and leave the wizarding world far behind him before sunset.

He realised, while going over Sally's parting words that he'd had no idea where he was going to conveniently disappear to for the rest of the holidays. He'd immediately scratched Grimmauld Place off the list, for one it would be too painful to go there with the fresh memory of Sirius' death still playing itself over and over in his head every time he closed his eyes. And the Order would be there, exactly the sort of people Harry wanted to stay away from until he could control himself. It looked like Sally had solved the riddle before Harry had even realised there was one. He had a hard enough time staying focused in the present so he'd had no time to dwell on the future.

He passed the scene of the fight with no trouble even though there were still reporters and ministry wizards hanging around.

Finally stepping out into the full sunlight of Diagon Alley he set off to the nearest clothes shop that did robes and muggle clothes.

The assistants jaw hit the floor when he watched an unearthly beauty walk into his shop

"May I help you sir?" He quickly gushed, getting as close as he dared to the god-like young man.

"Yes. I need robes, but mainly muggle clothes for all occasions, mostly casual. I would like them all in dark colours please."

As the assistant lead Harry into a dressing room that was as large as the whole of the ground floor at the Burrow he couldn't believe his luck. He got to dress and undress this beautiful creature for hours. He disappeared and left Harry to himself. The young vampire decided he'd better start to undress, as he wanted to get everything done as quickly as possible.

While he was pulling off his now tattered and torn shirt and musing over how best to fix it his sharp ears caught a whispered conversation outside the dressing room doors that he would have been unable to hear had he been human. But he wasn't.

"He only wants dark colours. How about this dark blue? Would it look good on him?"

"For Merlin's sake, Martin, anything would look good on him. He'd look better then any model in a potato sack!"

"Martin, it's not fair, share him with the rest of us."

"I got to him first, so I don't see why I have to."

"You have to because you can't carry all those clothes you're attempting to."

"Oh."

"Exactly."

Martin, Harry's attendant came hurrying back in with two other young men and one woman following closely behind. Each carried an armload of dark clothes...which dropped to the floor as their wide eyes took in the magnificent sight before them.

Harry was dressed in only a pair of black boxers; he was leaning back against one of the walls, arms crossed over his chest and one hand playing absently with his dragon necklace. The lighting was dim, creating shadows over the toned body, exaggerating the steel muscles, the pale skin looked flawless, as soft as velvet with a starless wave of glossy night spilling down his back, over his shoulders and down his chest. His perfect face was expressionless, full lips faintly tinged with dusky red, huge emerald eyes distant, seeing something from deep within his wise mind. He looked like a spirit, an elf, far too beautiful to be human, whose selfishness should never touch something so pure.

The intense eyes focused at the sound of the clothes dropping to the floor and in a split second the relaxed body was upright and tense in a defensive position before he seemed to actually register what it was that had created the noise.

"A bit much," the musical voice whispered out to the quiet room. It took a while for the assistance's to realise that he was talking about the amount of clothes they'd brought in. Martin stepped forward, eyes riveted on the perfect being in front of him.

"We didn't know which style you preferred, sir so we brought them all. Now if sir would just hold still while we put them on him."

Harry immediately ordered the assistants to leave. He wouldn't let them get within a meter of touching him, but they looked so depressed that Harry relented slightly and agreed that he would show them what each outfit looked like on him. This cheered them considerably.

"As sir wishes," Martin said, as he was about to step out of the door.

"Don't call me sir."

Confused grey eyes turned back to Harry.

"Well what would you like me to call you then, sir?"

Harry had been very carefully keeping his scar hidden so he needed to use a different name, not Harry Potter. Suddenly the perfect name came to him.

"Solo."

"Very good si- Solo," Martin blushed as he walked out of the door, pleased that he'd been asked to call the god by his first name while the others hadn't.

Harry turned back to glance at the clothes that had been conjured back into neat piles.

"Solo by name and solo by nature," he whispered into the empty room.

An hour and a half later, after much modelling Harry paid for the things he'd selected - the owner insisted that everything be cut to seventy percent off just for him. Even though no one recognised him as the once bespectacled, small and skinny boy Harry Potter and was now going as the mysterious stranger Solo, he'd attracted a large audience much to his confusion and despair. The longhaired boy knew he wasn't ugly but he had no idea he was now simply the most beautiful person most of them had ever seen. So Harry left the shop with all the clothes and boots, plus some accessories he would need along with one pocket bulging with addresses (by floo) from blushing witches and winking wizards. The other pocket held five cards from different modelling and advertising agencies.

The emerald-eyed boy had only taken a couple of bags with him; the rest would be in his room at the Leaky Cauldron before five o'clock. He glanced at his new watch. It was only half past three. Harry decided to pass the time by going into Flourish and Blots for anything interesting that might help him control his new powers, understand them, or give him a surprising edge against future Death Eater attacks. Half an hour later he walked out with another promise that his books would be delivered to his room before five, some more floo addresses and another card from an agency who were starting to make wizard films, which were proving to be a big hit, who wanted him to be involved – preferably the main character - in a gothic thriller they were going to start filming.

Harry was feeling quite emotionally exhausted from the days events and started to make his way back to the Leaky Cauldron ignoring the hungry stares coming from pretty much everyone in the crowded street. He knew fully well he wouldn't let a single one of them touch him so the stares didn't matter.

\Look but don't touch, eh?\

Harry's head snapped up.

\Over here master.\

The pale boy glanced over to his left and his eyes fell on an animal emporium, then they settled on what had spoken.

Sitting proudly on a perch just outside the door was a huge raven. Its thick black feathers changed to a deep purple where the sun caught them as it stared at him with clever, unblinking yellow eyes. It dipped its head respectfully.

\Strength and honour, master.\

What? Harry silently asked as he walked over to stare sightlessly into the window knowing how strange it would look to a street of people to watch him staring at a raven for minutes on end.

\It's our way of greeting: strength and honour is a great form of respect.\

Well strength and honour then.

The raven puffed up its chest proudly.

\I am flattered that you would grace me worthy of such a form of respect, master.\

I think you deserve it. And what's with the 'master' thing?

\We ravens have several forms of magic and are much more intelligent than owls. A raven chooses a master or mistress only worthy of keeping one of our kind. If a regular witch or wizard bought us they would not be able to keep or tame us as we pick you not the other way around. A bit like a wand I suppose.\

So you picked me?

\Yes.\

Why?

\Because you are worthy and I will be your friend as well as your familiar for life.\

The raven stretched its huge wings and flew onto Harry's shoulder. The long haired boy knew that if he'd of been human he would have buckled under the weight, but the bird felt as light as one of the feathers on its back.

The street around them immediately went quiet and still, then a slowly rising tide of whispers swept through the frozen crowd.

"Did you see that?"

"Right onto his shoulder."

"Do you think..."

"Maybe it's going to..."

"Hush! I want to see what happens next."

The raven sitting on Harry's shoulder spread its wings wide but did not fly away. It turned its black head up to the blue sky and let out one long, harsh cry that rung like a thousand bells, filling the street until no other noise could be heard, but over the cry Harry could hear the words that arrived in his head.

\Sky be my witness that I have chosen one to be bonded with. He is more than worthy to carry one of my kind. I will protect and watch over him as he will me. Sky seal our pact I, Griffin the brave have chosen Harry Potter, Solo, the one who walks alone, the Moonlight Lord, vampire and hero. Hear me!\

A bolt of lightning tore down from the empty sky and hit both of them. For a few seconds every witch and wizard had to turn away and shield his or her eyes from the bright light. When they were able to turn back it was to see an angry Harry glaring at the embarrassed looking raven on his shoulder.

"Oh, thank you very much. You could have warned me that was going to happen!"

With small slivers of lightning still jumping from the tips of his long hair and his green eyes actually glowing, Harry was, needless to say, scary enough to make the whole street back away while Griffin cowered on his broad shoulder.

\Sorry.\ Griffin had the decency to look embarrassed.

Harry sighed and bent to pick up the bags he had dropped when the lightning had hit him. Several of the witches standing behind him fainted while the wizards shifted so their robes were hiding their crotches as the emerald eyed boy had unconsciously given them a perfect view of his black trousers tightening over his incredible backside.

"What the hell?" Was all the longhaired boy said when he straightened up to see several limp witches on the flagstone street.

\I'll tell you later master.\

Harry shrugged and turned to the gapping shopkeeper who owned the animal emporium. A few minutes later he was making his way back to the Leaky Cauldron with a free of charge raven on his shoulder and hope in his mind for no more drama to slow him down.

Don't call me master. I have a name, please use it.

\Very well, Solo.\

That's a name I made up for myself so people wouldn't know who I am.

\Yes, but you choose it, it suits you more than the name other people gave you. Maybe in time you'll be able to settle more comfortably into your own skin, so for now you are Solo.\

Explain this to me later, will you?

\Of course, Solo.\

The boy who was now unrecognisable as The-Boy-Who-Lived stepped into the smoky interior of the Leaky Cauldron common room and slipped silently up the stairs. Opening the door to room eleven the dark pair glided noiselessly into the room. The bed had been remade and a fire was burning happily in the hearth even though the room was pleasantly cool. There was also a huge mound of boxes and bags at the end of the huge bed, all colourfully wrapped with big bows. Cards hung from almost every package.

"Merlin. It's like Christmas."

\More like three Christmases rolled into one.\ Griffin said wryly as he landed on the mantle piece.

"I didn't ask for any of them to be wrapped," Harry muttered as he began to step carefully through the packages. Graceful fingers reached out and gently pulled off a card. It smelled like rose blossom. Griffin watched as Harry's slender eyebrows rose towards his hairline and were hidden under his thick bangs.

"Listen to this! 'To the beautiful Solo. Never has any working day been filled with such joy than with serving you. Please call again, I'll be waiting. Your assistant always, Martin.'"

The card was slowly dropped and fell in sweeping waves to the floor. Emerald eyes stared unfocused at nothing.

"Always is such a long time for a normal lifetime let alone a vampires."

\We'll bear it together.\

"But you're a raven. Raven's aren't that long-living."

The deadpanned voice barely carried across the room. Griffin shrugged.

\We are if our masters are. I die when you die, not before, not after.\

Harry gazed sightlessly at the far wall.

Although the day had been hectic he'd quite enjoyed it because he'd been too busy to remember. But now he wasn't doing anything it was all coming back to him in one harsh, never ending, soul tearing, gut wrenching wave. All of it.

The teenage boy who had been forced to grow up too quickly fell to his knees clutching at his dark head; as if he squeezed hard enough he could block the painful memories.

His mother screaming and a violent flash of green light followed by a cold, harsh laugh.

Being bullied by Dudley and his gang at school.

Being forced to sleep in a cupboard.

Vernon and Petunia telling him day by day what a worthless piece of shit he was.

The times when everyone but a few close friends at Hogwarts turned on him; when he lost them points, when they thought he was the heir of Slytherin, when everyone thought he'd cheated and put his name in the Goblet of Fire and when everyone had though he was making up the story of Voldemort returning to full power.

Dementors.

Cedric lying there dead, his face frozen in surprise.

Voldemort.

The Cruciatus.

Seeing his parents and now knowing he'll never see them again.

Hearing Draco Malfoy say he'd picked the loosing side.

Sirius falling.

The beatings.

Sirius falling.

The rape.

Sirius falling.

Hedwig.

The rape.

The blood.

Sirius' face.

The rape.

Pain.

Pain in his shoulder.

Swirling emerald eyes opened and swivelled to stare at the raven digging its sharp talons deep into his broad shoulder.

\Merlin. Your life hasn't exactly been peaches and cream.\

A harsh laugh without a trace of humour filled the cosy room making it seem suddenly darker and colder.

"There's much more. Those are just the ones that stand out the most."

Blood was welling from the newly inflicted wounds that had brought the midnight haired boy out of his trance.

"Thank you."

\No problem. Thought I suggest you change your shirt.\

Another harsh laugh. Griffin winced.

\Is that the only way you know how to laugh?\

Harry began to slowly undo the black buttons on his black shirt.

"I've forgotten how to laugh any other way."

The young vampire ripped open one bag and a shirt that was such a deep blood red it looked almost black slid into his waiting hands.

"Hm, suits my mood."

He pulled it on then began opening other bags. His trunk was flung open and the stuff was folded neatly inside.

\A bottomless spell?\ Asked Griffin after watching Harry pack the huge mound of clothes, boots and books without running out of room. The dark haired boy nodded.

"My trunk was getting a little crowded at the end of last year so I put a bottomless spell on it before I went back to the Dursleys."

\Good idea.\ The raven said approvingly.

Harry nodded his thanks, placed the last shirt inside and shut the lid. With a wave of his slender hand he shrunk the large trunk and placed it in his pocket, another wave and all the rubbish of bags and boxes threw itself neatly into the bin. Then he brought out a newly bought muggle wallet and slipped his muggle money inside.

"Right, that's everything. Let's go."

Griffin flew back to his master's shoulder and they left the room. It looked like no one had even been in there.

The sun was just starting to set as Harry and Griffin stepped out into muggle London.

"Sally said I should go to Evergreen Village, wherever the hell that is."

The pale skinned boy knew where the train station was so he headed there.

Admiring glances greeted him as he entered King's Cross.

After asking a young guard if he knew any train that would be passing Evergreen Village and the man had finished staring at him and his raven, Harry found himself being led towards platform three and boarding the train there. The guard helpfully told him to get off at the small platform labelled 'Evergreen Village' then started babbling on about how he'd just split up with his boyfriend and was looking to settle down with a guy he'd happily spend the rest of his life with. Harry and Griffin both stared at him coldly until the man cowered and quickly backed off the train leaving Harry to his dark thoughts.

He didn't move as the train began with a slight lurch and wound out into the enclosing night. Nor did he move throughout the entire journey except to pay for his ticket, so it was left to Griffin to check the name of each station as they passed.

The carriage was nearly empty throughout the journey, only a few tired business men who were too busy dreaming of a warm dinner and a soft bed to spare more than a curious glance at the young teenager who looked like he belonged in a gothic movie with a large raven perched on his shoulder.

After two long hours, darkness had completely fallen and the train pulled up to a small station with a green on white sign proclaiming 'Evergreen Village.' Griffin had to peck Harry on the head to get his attention and a few seconds later they were standing alone on the dark platform as the train pulled on.

\Seems like a nice little place.\

Harry walked off the platform and stepped down onto a small road. He looked around.

Evergreen forests stretched away around the small village, hiding it from the world outside. The waning moon had risen in the clear star-studded sky, leaving a chill in the air. Warm lights rose from the houses down the lane, pushing back the darkness. But Harry was looking for something else.

"I need to feed."

Something ran up and down the length of his spine. There was no way he could explain what the feeling was like but he instinctively knew what it meant.

"And there's another vampire in this village," he said quite calmly, nodding to the lights.

\There is?\

"Yes."

They walked slowly towards the houses.

The moon filled the darkness with a ghostly light, illuminating the shadows. A slight figure walked down an empty lane heading for the unsuspecting lights of the village. He belonged to the night, wrapping it around him as tightly as a lover. His hair floating out behind him in a wave of pitch black, his skin was as pale as the moon's light playing over the silky surface, his eyes showed the world that he was not completely human, they glowed with an emerald light into the dark, the long black lashes splashing across the white skin like casual streaks of ink from an artists brush. His clothes were dark, symbolising that he carried the night with him where ever he went and his booted feet made no sound as they stepped on the scattered gravel. He was simply a being so beautiful that he looked as if he did not belong anywhere else than in the darkness. He was as untouchable as the raven on his shoulder. Both beings would grace the world with their dark beauty before gently slipping away back into the night.

Harry stepped into what he thought was the main street. There was a small newsagent's, a pub, a butchers and a post office.

By now the hunger was gnawing at his veins but not very painful yet.

He turned and started down a small alleyway.

\Why are we going down here?\ Griffin asked.

We're going down here because someone else is down here.

\I don't hear anyone.\

I can hear their heart beating.

\You realise you'd be the king of hide and seek with that talent.\

Harry almost smiled. He could also see the figure ahead of him, shifting from shadow to shadow, which unfortunately for them, didn't faze Harry in the slightest.

They're not muggle.

\How do you know?\

They're wearing a cloak.

\Might just be a very gothic muggle.\

Oh shut up.

Griffin shut up and hopped off Harry's shoulder to land noiselessly on a dustbin lid.

What are you doing now? Harry made sure the 'I'm-getting-fed-up-with- your-antics' tone was clear. Griffin shrugged.

\Getting out of your way so you can feed. Honestly, Solo.\

Harry glared in mock anger at the smug raven then turned back to the figure who had stopped, as though listening.

The vampire boy crept closer, eyes focused completely on his target. He was close enough now to hear and smell the rich blood pumping through the unfortunate's veins. Their breathing was calm and steady.

Harry flexed his muscles like a tiger before the kill and pounced.

At that exact moment the other figure spun around and also pounced.

Two slim but strong bodies hurtled towards each other.

Two sets of fangs plunged for a pale neck and stopped millimetres from penetrating.

Two bodies sank, still not yet touching each other, to the ground as two sets of eyes, one emerald green almost completely streaked with silver, and the other silver flecked with gold, looked at each other.

Together they pulled back and sat there on the cold, concert ground staring at each other.

A single cloud which had blinded the moon pulled on across the never-ending sky and moonlight spilled into the alley and onto two sixteen year olds, one head crowned with long jet black hair falling to his waist, the other with shoulder length silver.

Both mouths hung slightly open, showing their fangs lightly pressing on their lower lips.

Harry finally managed to grasp onto coherent speech and spoke to the other vampire sitting in front of him.

"Malfoy?"


	3. Crimson Tears

Crimson tears

Draco Malfoy couldn't believe his eyes.

Sitting in front of him in the cold, stinking alleyway was another vampire, and it was none other than Harry bloody Potter; his arch-nemesis.

"Potter?" He asked, a look of utter disbelief on his perfect face.

They stared at each other.

Draco had known there was another vampire in the village the second Harry had stepped off the train. The blond had been hunting at the time and was pretty hungry, as he hadn't feed for a week, so he had decided to hunt first and find the other vampire later.

His search had led him down a filthy alley when he'd heard the heartbeat of someone following him; the rhythmic thump of life punctuating the silence. Whoever they were, they couldn't have possibly known he was there as Draco blended himself perfectly with the shadows, invisible to the human eye.

As he was so hungry it never occurred to him about why he could only hear the others heartbeat and not his or her footsteps.

The person had paused momentarily so he'd stopped as well. The next thing he knew were his vampire senses screaming at him that something was coming up behind him fast.

He'd spun around letting his teeth elongate, plunging them towards the others neck.

And stopped.

Had he just seen fangs in the other person's mouth as well?

They had sunk to the chilly ground and pulled back to stare at each other.

Draco found himself looking into a pair of huge, beautiful eyes; glowing emerald green streaked with silver surrounded by long black lashes on a white, porcelain face framed by a waterfall of midnight black hair. The wind stirred the long strands slightly and Draco's sharp eyes caught a flash of slightly darker flesh on the forehead in the shape of a lightning bolt.

It wasn't possible, but it was.

"When did you bloody well become a vampire?" The blond teenager spluttered.

Potter blinked but didn't reply and Draco found himself getting frustrated.

"Heellllooooo? Did whoever change you suck your brains out as well?"

The snide remark worked and Draco had the satisfaction of seeing Potter's eyes blaze in all their glory.

"I wasn't bitten."

A smirk pulled at the corners of Draco's mouth.

"I find that unlikely Potter. Unless you were born a lamie, which, I might add, you weren't, you must have been bitten for you to change."

Harry pulled himself swiftly to his feet and stared coldly down at the other vampire, and Draco found himself wanting to shy away from that gaze.

He'd studied Harry with his extra fine senses ever since the dark haired boy had turned down his offer of friendship on the first day of their first year. He knew the other boy had been through a lot over the long span of years but he'd always managed to keep a sparkle in his eyes and an innocence in his gesture. The sparkle had become a bit fainter since Voldemort had been resurrected, espically after that occourance in The Ministry of Magic, but it had still been there as well as the innocence when Draco had last seen the boy - stepping through the barrier at platform at 93/4.

Now both were completely gone, as if they'd never been. His eyes, no longer hidden by glasses, were cold and emotionless. His face was beautiful (ever Draco the most shaggable Slytherin by popular vote, had to admit that, although he'd never speak it aloud and only after much teeth grinding) but beautiful like a diamond - hard with sharp edges. Something had happened to him this summer and it must have been something devastatingly horrible as even Voldemort had never been able to take them, no matter how hard he had tried.

Suddenly Draco found himself believing Potter although he couldn't explain why.

"What I mean is if you weren't bitten then how did you change?"

The darker boy shrugged then let his fangs slide back in and his eyes go back to normal - almost. To Draco's clever eyes they were still slightly flecked with silver.

Potter turned away slightly.

"I don't know. I just changed when I turned sixteen."

He raised a black clad arm and with a flutter of wings a handsome raven flew out of the night and settled on it.

Draco blinked. Where was Potter's white owl - Hedwig or something?

"Where's your owl, Potter?" He casually asked as he pulled himself to his feet, watching his arch nemesis closely out of the corner of one steel grey eye.

Potter flinched and a look of deep pain flashed briefly across his eyes before the emotionless shutters came down again.

"She died," was all he muttered, but the words he had not said roared in Draco's ears. What did Potter take him for, a Gryffindor? He knew there was much more to it than that.

Draco looked over his clothes carefully to make sure they weren't dirty after rolling around in a stinking Muggle alley. He'd give them to the house elves to burn when he got home. When he looked up again Potter was fast disappearing back to the main street.

"Oy! Potter!"

The other boy stopped at the entrance to the alley but didn't turn around. Draco caught up with him and planted himself in front of the expressionless vampire and special sneer he only seemed to reserve for Harry finding its way easily to his full lips.

"Why are you here of all places?"

To the blond's shock, the dark haired boy gazed solemnly up at the lonely moon. The Gryffindor had always been too polite to ever look away from him while the Slytherin was mocking him.

"A wise person told me that if I came here I would find someone who would be able to teach me how to control my new powers."

Draco stared hard at the shadowed figure of Harry Potter. He was remembering a letter he'd received an hour ago: a very strange letter.

He'd just been heading out to hunt when a perfectly normal barn owl had flown down out of the night and dropped a letter which Draco's fast hand had caught. Without waiting for a reply the bird had flown off again.

The parchment had been thick and had smelled of a fairy, which had their own unique scent as all magical creatures did.

The blond had opened it and stared blankly at the short sentence:

Draco,  
Teach him well.  
Dumbledore.

A letter from Dumbledore? And about teaching someone? Who?

Well now he knew.

"Dammit. I always get someone I don't like," the young aristocrat muttered sulkily under his breath.

"I hear that," came the quiet voice from Harry.

"Oh go screw yourself, Potter!"

The smaller boy had just begun to walk past Draco but now he spun back, hair flying around him. His eyes were as cold as glaciers and made Draco shudder minutely, though the blond would have to be dragged naked across burning coals before he would ever admit to it.

"You know," The Boy Who Lived began in a sarcastic tone that the Slytherin wouldn't have thought possible, "I really thought that with all I've been through I couldn't get any more depressed. I was wrong. I met you."

Ouch, Draco thought, then he sighed.

"Look Potter, I'm not here to fight you."

"Well you could have fucking well fooled me!"

The Malfoy heir stared.

"If that's your real attitude and the goody two shoes routine was all an act then how the bloody hell did you not end up in Slytherin?"

"I told the hat anything but Slytherin although it really wanted me to go there. Happy?"

Draco's eyes widened. He hadn't been expecting that. He shook his head, fine strands slicing the shadow thin moonbeams.

"Look," he started again, "I need to feed. You certainly need to. Why don't we go feed together and then I can piss you off some more."

The huge raven sitting on Potter's arm hopped up to his shoulder and nuzzled his long hair. The boy patted it with a pale hand absent-mindedly.

"Fine," was all he said before turning and melting away into the night, his clothes blending perfectly with the shadows. Draco sighed and followed him, watching the changed Boy Who Lived's raven fly back into the air.

The boys became one with the darkness; creatures of the night hunting for unsuspecting prey ready to be lured in by their sinful beauty, which they quickly found.

As they were nearing the pub, stalking silently over the worn cobbles, the old oak door swung open and music, light and laughter spilled out into the night along with two drunken men.

"Well that was fun!" One giggled from the ground.

"Yeah! We should do that more often!" The other yelled into the ground.

Movement.

"Um, I can't get up. How 'bout you?"

More rustling.

"Nope, me neither."

The first man broke out into a loud gale of laughter as though his friend had said something extremely funny.

"Need a hand?" A silky voice asked from above them.

The two men on the ground glanced up and their breath was stolen away as they stared at the two most beautiful creatures they'd ever seen.

They were black and white, shadow and light. Total opposites yet exactly the same. There was the same untouchable air about them, the same unearthly beauty.

"Wow," was all the second man could utter. The first was speechless.

"I said: do you need a hand?" The blond asked again.

Draco sighed, he knew he wouldn't even have to control them and waste energy.

"Yes you do," he said firmly before bending down and easily pulling one of the gaping men up.

Harry rolled his magnificent eyes and pulled the other one up, being very careful not to touch him any more than necessary.

They began to lead them back towards the alley where they couldn't be seen.

"This place is tiny, so how come we haven't seen you two beauties before?" One of the drunks asked with no shame at all.

Harry and Draco glanced at each other - both willing to put aside their amnesty for the moment while dealing with a chatty dinner - and an unspoken agreement passed between them.

"We're from out of the village," Draco said.

Merlin he thought, this is stupid. I'm having a conversation with lunch!

Now, now, Malfoy. They're just drunk so stop being so childish.

I'm not, so shut the fuck up, and they're not just drunk, they're Muggles as well.

And what's wrong with that? The voice that arrived in Draco's head held a menacing tone, a hidden warning not to put his foot in it.

Oh yes, Draco's silent voice sneered, your little mudblood friend's Muggle born.

Harry steered his drunk back down the alleyway, which to the two stumbling men, would be pitch black. Then the dark vampire tripped the man and placed his booted foot firmly on his back so the man couldn't get back up.

"Do you want me to hurt you?"

Draco sneered again, the expression at home on his beautiful face.

"Oh Potter you wouldn't be able to. Remember I've always been a vampire; you've barely been changed for a day. Bet's on who'll win?"

Potter straightened up from bending over his drunk and stared, his slightly glowing emerald eyes burning holes in the back of the blond's head.

Draco shrugged uncomfortably, turned and trapped his own drunk under his foot.

"I may surprise you."

The voice was barely above the quietest whisper, a mere tremor on the heavy air that brushed Draco's ear with the force of a butterfly kiss along with the warmth of the soft breath the notes were carried on like a nightingales cry, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and a shiver to run up and down his spine. He spun around to face Harry but the other vampire looked as though he hadn't moved from holding down his drunk. But he must have, to have whispered in Draco's ear.

Draco didn't want to admit it, even to himself, but he was un-nerved, and it took a lot to un-nerve a Malfoy. If Potter was already that fast then he was going to become an extremely powerful vampire, maybe even stronger than him.

Then the youngest Malfoy had an idea.

Dumbledore obviously meant him to teach Potter - how Dumbledore knew he was a vampire, let alone his Golden Boy, was beyond him - but if he could gain Potter's trust to the point where the loyal Gryffindor would do what he said without question, he could play it to his advantage. In fact, even if Dumbledore hadn't of sent him the letter, Draco would have been obligated, by vampire protocol, to have taught Harry anyway as he was the first fully trained vampire the other boy had meet since he was changed. Normally it was the vampire's who had changed the person in the first place but every now and then a stray and rather confused new vampire would pop up, either because their master had been killed or couldn't keep the new changeling with them.

But Draco pushed aside those thoughts as feeding came first.

The Slytherin reached down and pulled the Muggle up by his collar, slightly disheartened by the fact that Potter had already done that to his drunk.

The man held by Draco had been wondering muzzily why the hell he couldn't get back up with just the foot of the pretty blond boy holding him down, as he was taller and wider then the slight youth. Then, the next thing he knew, he'd been yanked to his feet by a worryingly strong grip and found himself staring into the blond's beautiful steel grey eyes. He appreciated the sight before him; a sleek almost delicate build that hinted of hidden strength, aristocratic long fingered hands with a simple yet graceful silver ring adorning the right index finger. The long legs were covered with a pair of leathery looking black trousers, but with strange shaped scales making up a subtle pattern. A deep rich green shirt that clung ever so slightly to his chest gave a teasing view of the toned muscles underneath. A simple silver necklace with a snake curling around a dark red jewel rested at the base of an elegant, snow-white neck. Following the neck up, the man's sight landed on the boys face. Perfect, he mused; a slightly pointed chin, a strong but not over large jaw topped by high cheekbones, two delicately curved silver eyebrows residing over two large steel grey eyes with a slightly wicked tilt to them surrounded by a soft forest of long black lashes.

The drunkard was marvelling at how incredible the boy's eyes where when the irises swirled, the grey changing a few shades lighter to silver while flecks of gold surfaced. The whole surfaces of the irises were constantly moving like living quicksilver.

Then they started glowing.

The teenage boy became more and more beautiful (if that was possible) and more and more unearthly.

A strange impulse gripped the man and his widened eyes dropped to the blonde's lusciously full lips, set in a cute pout. The edges lifted into a sneer and the boy let his lips part.

The man sobered up instantly and then froze in terror.

His brain was still trying to register the fact that the beautiful boy had fangs when said boy leant forward in a very intimate gesture and sank said fangs into the artery in his neck.

For a few seconds it was painful, then his mind was filled with a swirling gold fog and everything was exquisite.

He was dimly aware of the moans of pleasure he was making and similar noises coming from his friend who had the dark beauty's fangs buried in his own neck.

Draco had soon satisfied his hunger and pulled away, ignoring the sound of protest from the Muggle. They were always the same.

He casually placed a long finger on the centre of the mans forehead and murmured "forget."

He felt the power sweep down his arm and out through his digit. The man's eyes glazed and he slumped to the ground in a deep sleep.

Potter had just finished with his own, and the man fell to the dirty alleyway ground to join his friend. There would only be two faint marks, like long forgotten insect bites, come morning on both of the men's necks and they would come up with their own assumption as to how they got there, probably that they collapsed there while attempting to drunkenly make there way home, and any faint memories of two sinful angels would be only a blissful dream.

Draco felt suddenly spiteful and reached out with his mind into the two unconscious bodies. He gave something a slight tweak and pulled back smugly, the next morning the men would have two of the worst hangovers they'd ever experienced to go with their story.

"Well that's done. Come on then, Potter." Draco drawled and started to pick his way out of the filthy alley, swearing to himself to defiantly burn his clothes when he got back home.

The blond stopped when he realised the command he'd just issued was not being followed and Potter was still standing where he had fed. Draco turned back in annoyance.

"What is with you! Can't you understand bloody English?"

Harry calmly stood in the shadows of the buildings leaning in either side of him while the quiet night about the village was broken only by the call of a hunting owl and Draco Malfoy's ranting.

Something that made the blond even more angry was that he'd always managed to get some sort of reaction out of Harry before now, whether just a slight pink tint to the Gryffindor's cheeks or a full out slanging match, and now all he did was stare at him with those strangely empty eyes.

Finally Draco ran out of words and stood there glowering at 'Dumbledore's pet' as he had called him on several occasions, waiting for the other boy to speak.

"Why would I want to go anywhere with you?" Harry quietly said in a drawl so similar to Draco's own that the blond shuddered. Oh yes, something had defiantly taken away his innocence. And Draco wasn't sure that was a good thing.

"Well, simply put, it's because I'm obliged to teach you the Law of the Council. Vampire law basically and all the other charming bits and pieces."

Potter said nothing, just slowly raked his glowing eyes over Draco's body with a gaze cold enough to raise goose bumps on the lamie's skin as it passed.

"You are supposed to be teaching me?" The drawl was still there, but nothing else.

"Great Slytherin! What's between your ears? A rock? How can I put this so you understand? You vampire. Me vampire. Me always been vampire and, aside from my parents, me the only fucking vampire for fifty miles!"

Harry sighed and stared up at the moon with empty eyes. He just didn't care.

"Fine. Let's go."

Draco was quite shocked that Harry had agreed without a fight, but if Draco was any judge of people, and he was a damn good one, from the tone of The- Boy-Who-Lived voice he just didn't give a flying fuck anymore.

Definitely have to find out what happened to him, the youngest Malfoy thought. Not that I care about him! He just ...looks so alone, exactly like I feel.

"Well try and keep up if you can then."

The silver haired boy turned and darted out of the alley with the dark haired boy close on his heels and a huge raven following them above the houses.

I must be going soft, Draco thought to himself as he sprinted out of the small village and down a dark lane. The overgrown hedges leaning in from either side, and there was a mossy tang on the cool air. Sympathising with Potter? Must have been the alcohol in that human's blood, making me light headed.

Harry meanwhile, running easily along behind him said and thought nothing, leaving his mind a safe black. Just darkness in which he felt safe as he couldn't see the memories looming a shadows width away behind a door that was bolted tight for the moment but threatened at any time to burst open under the weight of emotions and pain.

Overhead in the clear night sky, but under the glowing moon and whispering stars, Griffin flew staring worriedly down at his master. _I'll have to get that other vampire to do something soon, Harry needs to get the pain out, otherwise he'll sink so far into depression he won't be able to come back._

They trio ran a flew flat out for almost an hour until Draco pulled to a sudden stop, stones skidding up into the air in a dangerous hail.

"Well he we are," he drawled.

Harry looked as Griffin flew down out of the sky a settled on his shoulder.

"Where are we exactly?"

Draco gestured casually down into the wooded valley spreading out magnificently below them.

"Malfoy Estate."

Harry's face remained expressionless.

"The whole valley belongs to your family?"

The silver blond gave a superior smirk.

"Of course."

It did not have the desired effect Draco had been hoping for.

Everyone, _everyone_, was always impressed by the sheer size and beauty of the valley and were awed by how rich the Malfoy family were to own it. However the raven-haired boy just stared out at the dark horizon, seeming not interested in Draco's heritage at all.

The lamie was loath to admit it, but he was slightly impressed by Harry's lack of reaction. Even Voldemort had appreciated the valley when his father had first brought him to Malfoy Estate.

"Well, shall we?" The aristocratic boy snapped.

"By all means," his companion replied smoothly.

Together, the two vampires, as silent as shadows, slipped down into the woods and on.

A few minutes later they stepped out from the cover of the trees and saw a huge lawn leading to a massive gothic mansion, complete with gargoyles and spiked towers twisting up into the night sky. Such a heavy design would normally make the house sprawl like a huge dog across the landscape, yet the designer of Malfoy Manor had managed to gather all the buttresses, towers, battlements and more and arrange them in a way that was entirely graceful. Malfoy Manor didn't squat on the landscape; it seemed to float above it.

Draco sneaked a glance at Harry and found himself wanting to hit the long haired boy across the back of the head just to try and get some sort of reaction out of him.

The Slytherin stalked across the silver washed grass with The-Boy-Who- Changed following noiselessly behind.

Draco stepped into his home through a pair of open French doors and sent his senses out around the house. His parents had left to feed themselves. Well, at least he wouldn't have to explain Potter until morning.

"C'mon, Potter," he turned to see the other vampire looking at a huge painting hanging over the stately fireplace.

Figures were moving in the red light of the picture, battling back and forth over a dead landscape.

"The last battle," Draco said quietly. Potter didn't move; just keep his intense gaze fixed on the bloody scene.

"It was the final battle that our kind were involved in, if we hadn't been there, the outcome would have been very different." He turned away and walked over to a mahogany desk, running a slender hand over the dark wood.

"Our kind makes a point of never getting involved with human affairs, all their petty squabbling is beneath us, but we rose and fought in this one because whoever won that battle would have effected all creatures. That was a thousand years ago. My grandfather fought in it."

Draco didn't know why he was telling Potter this, as he couldn't stand the Gryffindor, but even he had a right to know his kind's history.

"Come on, I'll show you your rooms."

This time the silent boy followed and soon they were standing outside a thick oak door. Draco pushed it open and stepped confidently in with Potter behind him.

The first thing the icy boy did was to go straight over to the glass door leading out onto the balcony and open it while the young owner of the manor looked on in mild interest. The huge raven of Potter's flew in and alighted on his shoulder, staring around with clever yellow eyes and clicking its beak appreciatively.

Potter didn't even glance at the richly furnished room around him, just pulled a miniature box out of his pocket, lazily waved a pale hand and suddenly he was balancing a full sized trunk on his palm. After placing it on the floor he turned around and stared pointedly at Draco, who bristled.

"What?"

"Leave," came the deadpanned reply, making the older vampire all the angrier.

"That's it? No 'thank you for saving my butt and all, Malfoy.' Just 'leave'."

"Why should I thank you?"

Draco had the strangest urge to bash his head against the nearest wall.

"Oh screw you, scar boy! I'll see you in the morning."

He stalked out of the room and down the corridor to his own quarters.

The blond stormed into his bedroom, lobbed a rather large fireball at the cold wood in the fireplace and threw himself down onto his king size bed.

"Who the hell does he think he is, anyway?"

\No one. That's the point.\

In his anger Draco hadn't heard the soft flutter of wings at his open window, and because of this had to put up with the embarrassment of the raven watching him almost fall off the edge of his bed in the miserable attempt to jump upright.

"Oh, you're Potter's raven."

The bird nodded and flew into the impressive room, landing on the mantelpiece above the crackling fire.

\How very observant of you, and my name's Griffin, not 'raven'.\

"Great, he's sarcastic as well," Draco muttered to himself as he leaned back against one of the bedposts, the fire sending golden streaks through his pale hair and etching his sculptured face in shadow.

\I heard that, and I only came to speak to you because I had to.\

Draco lifted his bored gaze from the wooden floor and pinned the raven with a searching look.

"Had? As in Potter made you? Ah, can't face apologising to me face to face so he sent you instead."

The raven gave him a very long stare - something which ravens are very good at.

\No. Sol- Harry doesn't know I'm here, but I need to talk to you about him.\

Draco noticed the serious tone and sat back down on the edge of his bed, rumpling the satin cover.

"Go on."

\Harry has been through so much in his short life. More pain and suffering than most adults even come close to, and this summer something happened - not just his becoming a changeling - but something else, something so tragic it almost broke him and still might. He's sinking further and further into depression. He's losing himself - well to be honest he's already lost himself. He's a totally different person to who you used to know. I know you say you're going to have to teach him control over his new powers, but before you do we're going to have to come to an agreement.\

Draco had been soaking everything in and replied instantly.

"Agreement?"

The black bird nodded.

\Yes, an agreement. Sort of a few ground rules laid out.\

The blond leaned back on the bed and ran a slender hand through his silver hair.

"Okay."

\The first one is; don't touch him, not even a pat on the arm, at least not to start with.\

Draco frowned in confusion then remembered the way Potter hadn't touched him even when he was just about to bite him, and the way he'd gingerly handled the drunk.

"Fine."

\Secondly, take it easy on him for a while. At the moment he's running on shock. It hasn't actually sunk in that he's a vampire. When it finally does hit him it's not going to be pretty.\

"Right."

\And thirdly, I know you both don't get along but don't try to humiliate him or put him down too badly. Harry's a different person now, perhaps he'll be someone you'll like.\

Draco snorted.

"Why do I find that so hard to believe?"

Griffin stared at him again and the vampire threw his hands up in mock surrender.

"Okay! Okay! Sheesh, don't bother trying to burn a bloody hole through my skull just because I said a friendship between me and Potter was unlikely."

\I didn't say friendship, lamie.\

Draco silently cursed his tired mind and vowed never to drink from a drunk human again.

"Look, raven. I'm the one who should be laying down the rules here as I so kindly invited you and Potter to stay in my home."

Griffin let out a caw that was the raven equivalent to a snigger and flew from the mantelpiece to land on the window ledge.

\Funny boy, if I remember my vampire protocol correctly you didn't have a choice as to invite Harry and me here or not. You were obligated.\

Draco let himself fall back onto his green satin sheets and fought down the urge to throw a pillow at the annoyingly sharp bird.

"I see you know your vampire laws. Fine then, bird, I'll try, but I'm not promising anything and I won't even go so far as to try at all if you don't bugger off and let me get some sleep.

The raven gave a cawing chuckle.

\Very well then, vampire, I'll see you in the morning.\

And with that the impressive creature spread its wings and lifted itself off the still, leaving Draco to the peace of his whirling mind.

"Bloody animal," he muttered before waving a hand and transfiguring his clothes into black pyjamas, then rolling over in an attempt to get some sleep.

The rising sun shedding its warmth through the early morning mist and dew woke Draco from his troubled dreams. He gave a slight groan and rolled over under his silky cover to turn his face away from the offending light then sighed and sat up, rubbing a hand at his sleep clouded eyes.

Grudgingly, he pulled himself from the bed and traipsed bare footed across the fine wooden floor into his bathroom.

He returned a few minutes later with a washed faced and his mouth no longer tasting like something had died in it, he was feeling much more refreshed and awake.

Humming to himself he walked over to his huge wardrobe and pulled open the well-crafted door, selecting a pair of simple dark blue jeans and a black designer shirt.

When a house elf entered his bedroom a ten minutes later it was to find her master sitting on the bed just finishing tying the laces on his favourite boots.

"Linky came to wish her young master a good morning and change his bed!"

Draco sighed at the high-pitched squeal of the excitable elf, glancing over at her in her crisply washed pillowcase uniform. She had huge bat like ears and a pair of massive dark blue eyes along with a delicate upturned nose. She was small even for a house elf, but made up for her lack of height in boundless energy.

"Good morning to you too, Linky, are my parents back yet?"

He stood up and strolled over to the dresser to fix his sleep-mussed hair and Linky happily began to change the bed sheets behind him.

"Yes indeed young master, Linky saw them arrive an hour ago. They is in the dining room."

Draco ran the fine-toothed comb through his hair one last time before giving his reflection a satisfied glance and turning away from the mirror.

He frowned.

He couldn't help feeling as though he'd forgotten something, could it be something to do with the strange dream he'd had last night about Potter?

Linky smoothed out the last crease on the bedcover before turning back to her young master who had a pensive frown marring his smooth forehead. Maybe he was thinking about the sad vampire boy he'd brought back with him last night. She decided to ask.

"Does young master Malfoy want Linky to see to his guest?"

Draco waved a hand vaguely.

"Yes, yes I suppose, won't do to let som - what?"

Linky blinked her huge eyes at him in puzzlement.

"Linky said; 'does young mast –" Draco cut her off.

"No! I mean, what guest?"

Linky looked totally bewildered, backing slowly across the wooden floor towards the bed ready to dive under it if her master had one of his temper tantrums.

"Why the other boy and his raven that young master is bringing home last night."

The blond stood frozen in the middle of the floor, morning sunlight streaming around him, but giving him no warmth.

"So it wasn't a dream," he whispered to nobody as his mind spiralled back to the night before. The image that surfaced out of the darkness of his mind was a pair of ice-cold green eyes that stared through him; laying everything he was bare with contemptuous ease. He shuddered, wrapping his arms around his shivering body. The idea that Potter had become a vampire was so ludicrous that he had automatically though it was a fevered dream created by his overactive imagination.

He cast out his senses and sure enough Potter was sleeping in one of the better guest rooms just down the corridor. He studied the signature of his archenemy and by the restlessness of the other boy's mind he had to be dreaming. He watched in surprise as Potter's mind began to race in an almost violent way but the boy was still asleep. There was only one explanation for something like that - a nightmare - and from the way the Gryffindor's mind was reacting it was a bad one.

Draco strode past the stuttering Linky and yanked the door to his bedroom open, crossed his private living room and walked out into the hallway, heading down to the room that contained his 'guest'.

He pushed open the oak door leading to a slightly smaller living room than his own decked out in oak furniture, tapestries hanging from the stone walls and dark sea blue chairs. He hurried through to the bedroom then paused in front of the door. Why was he hurrying? Didn't he hate Potter? After an inward struggle he decided that even if he did hate Potter, he was now his pupil until he could handle himself and he was meant to take care of his pupil. Satisfied he pushed open the door and froze.

Harry was lying on the dark blue satin and oak four postured bed, curled up into a tiny ball and shaking uncontrollably. Every now and then a soft whimper would escape his lips.

The raven, Griffin, was hovering nervously on the edge of the bed, seemingly unwilling to get any nearer. It turned its yellow eyes on the shocked boy standing in the doorway.

\It's worse this time, he just gets pulled deeper whenever I touch him.\

"He has these regularly?" Draco asked, stepping into the large room and shutting the door behind him, staring at Harry curiously. This was a side of the Golden Boy he hadn't seen before. He'd seen Harry angry, happy, sad, annoyed, serious and worried but never vulnerable and scared and to be honest that scared Draco himself. No matter how screwed up his life was he could always rely on the pride of Gryffindor being there for him to take out his anger on. Dumbledore's pet had been a solid presence in his life for the past five years, always running around being the hero and remaining disgustingly pure, but always witty enough to give him a decent fight. Whenever Draco was feeling poetic he'd been known to call Harry his 'beloved enemy', but now all of that had been destroyed along with Harry's innocence.

\Yes, they've been coming more often recently.\

Draco opened his mouth to ask what exactly Potter was dreaming about to make him react so badly when the raven glared at him with 'don't ask' written all over its face.

"Well what the hell do you expect me to do then?" The steely-eyed boy snapped, flashing his own intense glare at the bird.

Griffin shrugged.

\I wasn't the one who made you come here.\

Draco swore under his breath and ran a hand through his shoulder length hair.

Then he spotted something on the dresser that made him grin nastily and almost skip over to get it, sniggering all the way. He picked it up and Griffin stared at him.

\You're not.\

"I bloody well am. I won't be touching him this way, but it should still wake him up."

The bird shrugged again and flew across the room to land on the back of a handsome chair, well out of harms way.

\Fine then, it may work but I'm warning you now - he won't be happy.\

A slender eyebrow was raised.

"And since when have I ever cared about what makes him happy or not?"

Draco marched towards the bed and stood over the shaking figure, for a moment just staring.

The other boy really was unrecognisable without his glasses, his bone structure had also become more defined and the shadows of baby fat he'd still had, along with the slightly geeky gestures and movements had completely vanished. His long hair splayed out in a black waterfall on the pillows around him and his lily-white skin was covered in beaded sweat. His long fingered hands kept clenching and unclenching, almost as if he wanted to punch something away then thought better of it at the last moment.

"No."

A faint whisper reached Draco's ears as he took in the Gryffindor lying before him.

"Please, stop. It – it hurts."

One hand scrabbled uselessly at the blanket.

The one and only heir to the Malfoy fortune had seen all he'd wanted to see. He was disturbed at what made Harry beg like that even though he didn't know exactly what 'it' was, and without a second thought, upended the full water beaker that he had in his hand, onto Harry's head.

The reaction he got was something he'd never forget.

With a primal scream Harry shot upright, emerald eyes blazing into silver, fangs extending and wet hair flying about his face, seeming to fairly dance with hate and fear. The soaked boy flung a hand out in front of him and Draco had the sense to throw himself to the floor as a white hot fireball erupted from Harry's palm, tore through the air where Draco had been standing seconds before and ripped across the room to explode into the mantelpiece above the fire. The mantle disintegrated, spreading white dust around the room.

Then there was a roaring silence.

Draco slowly looked up when he deemed it safe to gaze at Harry. The other boy was staring blindly at what had been the mantelpiece, hand still outstretched and breathing in great gasping breaths.

The Slytherin then looked around for the raven and found the bird hiding under the chair that it had been standing on.

"Next time you can wake him up," the young vampire snarled.

Griffin had the courtesy to look sheepish.

The tense atmosphere was broken by Linky bursting through the door and squeaking in shock at the state of the room. She waved a very long fingered hand and, with a slight shimmer, the dust vanished, leaving everything spotlessly clean to the point where - if it weren't for the now missing mantelpiece - anyone to have walked in afterwards would not have guessed anything had happened apart from the frozen boy in the bed.

Draco pulled himself to his feet and straightened his clothes before turning to Harry, whose fangs were slowly retracting and his eyes going back to their normal green with a touch more silver than the night before. Apart from that, the sixteen year old remained as still as stone.

"Potter?" Draco called.

No response.

"Potter!"

"Huh?"

"Are you going to put your arm down now because it looks damn stupid."

Potter finally moved; he turned his head to gaze blankly down at his arm, still extended before him.

"Oh."

The arm was lowered.

Draco snorted and crossed his own arms.

"'Oh'? You tried to blow my head off and all you can say is 'oh'?"

The dark haired boy frowned before throwing back the covers and standing up. He was wearing a loose black vest top and some black boxers.

"Well you shouldn't have woken me up like that. It surprised me."

Harry padded across the room, nodded to Griffin and Linky and marched into the bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind him.

If glares could kill, the door Harry had just shut would be dead ten times over by the look Draco was giving it.

"Well then fuck you, Mr Potter. Linky stay here and when that pompous git's done bring him down to the dining room to meet my parents. I'm sure he'll get a wonderful surprise when he see's my father."

Linky bowed, still a little confused at what was going on.

The glowering boy left the room to the sound of Griffin's cawing chuckle.

"Selfish, stuck up little snot. Couldn't even say thank you. I should have left the stupid bastard where he was," muttered Draco as he stalked down the richly furnished corridor. He continued mumbling until he pushed open the doors to the dining room.

"Draco!"

A beautiful young woman threw herself across the room and swept him into her arms.

"Mother, please, not so tight... can't breath."

The woman who barely looked like she'd turned twenty stepped back chuckling.

"Sorry, Draco honey. I'm a little hyper because of the blood I had last night. It was so rich!"

"A little? I think 'a little' is an understatement dear." Came a drawling voice from behind her.

Draco peered over his mothers shoulder and saw a young man, no older than the woman, lounging in a finely crafted chair with his booted feet resting on the table in front of him.

"Well you were there, father, so only you can say how much she drank."

Lucius Malfoy threw back his head and gave a hearty laugh. He was wearing a forest green velvet jacket with a silver shirt underneath. Black trousers and black dragon hide boots with silver buckles. His long silver hair had been pulled back in a loose ponytail, tied off with a black silk ribbon. His cane rested on the rose wood table beside him.

"True, son. But you know how much fun she is when she's a little tipsy on the blood."

Draco grinned. This was a side of himself and his family no human ever saw.

Narcissa giggled and twirled in the middle of the floor, her stately blood red dress fanning out in a velvety wave around her along with her golden blonde hair that almost reached her waist. Her light blue eyes shining with power and laughter.

"By the way, Dracy," she began and Draco groaned.

"Mother, I've told you, my name's Draco."

Narcissa waved a delicate hand imperiously and smirked a Malfoy smirk.

"Enough of that. If I want to call my one and only child Dracy, then I will, darling. But what I was going to ask was who is the other presence I can sense? Whoever they are they're not human, but they're different from any other vampire I've ever felt."

The humour faded from the teenager's eyes.

"You'll meet him as soon as he thinks we're worthy enough to receive him," came the snarl.

Lucius let out another chuckle as he pulled himself to his feet and walked, giving off almost visable waves of power and the grace, over to his wife and son.

"Oh ho? Finally a vampire who gets under your skin Draco? I'm looking forward to meeting this new pup."

Draco turned away to glare out of the magnificent windows showing a perfect view of the sun rising over the wooded valley in a clear sky.

"Yeah? Well you may not like him so much when you see who he is."

Narcissa frowned at her son's muttered words.

Narcissa was from a very well respected vampire line, and she, like most other female lamies born to her family, had been blessed with the gift to sense the future for others. Luckily enough Bellatrix had not been born with the gift, although Andromada, Narcissa's other sister had.

Her normal senses were telling her that Draco despised whoever it was up in one of the guest rooms and vice versa, but her gift was telling her that it was important that they got on. Important for everyone.

"Oh dear, looks like I've got my work cut out," she mused quietly to herself.

She felt a familiar presence looming up behind her and seconds later two strong arms snaked around her waist and she was hoisted, shrieking with laughter, into the air.

"Now, now, Narccy, why the long face?"

"That's my business, you big lug, now put me down, Lucius!"

Draco turned away from the window to have his sour mood whipped away in the face of his parents play-wrestling match. He wished they could be like this in public, not the selfish, cold family they were depicted as. Narcissa caught her son's eye and gave a wicked grin and a wink before she vanished. Lucius fell backwards off balance as a white fox darted across the floor to hide behind Draco's legs. Of course, that was why they were never like this in public, Draco reminded himself as Narcisssa - still in her fox form - poked her delicate white head around his leg and (incredibly) stuck her tongue out at Lucius who was kneeling on the floor with a gobsmacked expression on his handsome face. Because when we act like this we relax and do what is natural to us, which is not natural in the wizarding world and would easily show us for what we are, the teenager mused as his father gave an evil grin of his own a changed into a bigger fox before chasing his wife all around the room. Like that time last summer, when they were both acting like they are now and father chased mother out onto the lake. They were running over it for hours.

A small cough from the doors brought Draco out of his thoughts and caused Narcissa to stop so suddenly that Lucius crashed into her and they both tumbled in a heap on the floor before changing back into their normal forms, Lucius tenderly pulling Narcissa to her feet before they all turned to stare at Linky who was hopping nervously from foot to foot in the doorway.

"Linky has brought young masters, erm..." She trailed off, not knowing how to finish the sentence.

"Pupil." Draco supplied.

"Pupil!" Linky finished gratefully before shuffling aside and letting Harry step into the room.

He'd tied his hair back in a loose ponytail and looked comfortable in a long sleeved dark green top with black jeans and dragon hide boots.

"Welcome to my home, young one. I am the master of this estate, Lucius Malfoy, and this is my beautiful wife Narcissa. Draco, of course, you already know. May we have the pleasure of your name?"

Lucius managed to sound utterly in control but warm at the same time, even though his shirt was half untucked and his normally immaculate hair ruffled from the wrestling match.

"If you wish, sir, though I doubt it will be a pleasure. Harry Potter."

Time seemed to stop. A fractured moment splintered away from reality into the gaping maw of disillusion.

"I see." Lucius' smooth voice broke the thick tension.

He made to step forward when Narcissa's hand shot out and stopped him, a silent communication seemed to go between them before Lucius nodded and Narcissa smiled, then she slowly began to walk towards Harry, stopping the second she saw him begin to tense.

"There are a few things that need to be explained to you, Harry, would you like to sit down?" She gestured with a delicate hand to the table behind her.

Uncertainly, Harry nodded and walked warily towards the table, eyes flicking quickly over the three Malfoy's, clearly not willing to put his back to any of them.

Narcissa gave a sad sigh and walked over to her husband, pulling him over to the chair he'd been sitting in then drawing another chair up next to his in which she seated herself.

Harry paused when he passed Draco and looked up into the taller boy's face with something akin to puzzlement. Draco looked down using all of his 5ft 10 height against Harry's 5'7 to try and hide his own confusion. With Potter this close to him there almost seemed to be electricity in the air crackling between them. At first Draco had though it was their intense hatred of each other, but then to his shock, found that he didn't want to insult Potter or put him down.

"Where's your raven?" The blond snapped as cover.

Potter didn't even flinch, just carried on walking sedately to the table and seating himself opposite Lucius and Narcissa.

"Out looking over the grounds, said something about this not being his place." Came the monotone reply.

Draco rolled his eyes and took his place a couple of chairs down from Potter. The two boys settled and turned towards Lucius and Narcissa. As soon as they did the master of the estate started talking in a calming voice.

"I suppose one of the first things you are wondering is why I am here and not in Azkaban."

The Gryffindor raised one elegant eyebrow, as if to silently say 'ya think?'

The corner of Lucius' mouth twitched and Narcissa hid a smile behind her hand as their son stared incredulously at the smaller boy.

"One thing you will be quick to learn is that our species is very protective over each other. The second I was arrested the best lawyers our kind could find were working to release me. I was in Azkaban for only three weeks."

The boys expression remained blank, as if Lucius had simply commented on the weather.

"Next, I suppose you're wondering why Narcissa and I look so young."

A nod confirmed his suspicions and he continued.

"You will find, Harry that most lamie stop ageing around the age of twenty. We look mature enough to be considered adults but not old enough to loose any of our youth, however, most wizards continue to have their bias views on vampires so we have a special potion to make us look the appropriate age whenever we have to go out in public. The potion can only be used by vampires so you and Draco will be using it when you get older."

Harry nodded.

"That I understand, Mr Malfoy. The thing I don't understand is why I'm still alive. You are one of Voldemort's little minions so why haven't you at least tied me up and sent an owl saying you have me?"

Narcissa and Lucius glanced at each other.

"That is a very good question, Harry and because of that I'll tell you why I haven't."

Lucius pulled the sleeve covering his left arm up and the Dark Mark glared in all its ugly glory at the ceiling.

"The thing is, Harry, that even though I've taken this mark for him. Even though I've killed for him. I've never followed him."

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"You see my loyalty to my race comes before anything else. When Voldemort first started to rise, our lamie council ordered several of us to pretend to join him as humans. I was one. Others were told to join him openly as vampires."

"Why?" Harry cut in.

"There is an ancient prophecy, Harry, I can't tell you it until your training is complete but I can tell you that vampires will be the turning point of this war. If Voldemort were to conquer the light he would destroy us by killing the Muggles and muggle born's. You see wizard blood is not as nourishing as Muggle or muggle born blood and we have to drink more of it in a shorter period of time. We would end up killing hundreds of thousands and then starve to death, our council knows this and we have been secretly putting together an army for years."

"Why haven't you let your intentions been known to the light side?"

Lucius sighed and steepled his fingers before him on the dark table.

"One thing you must understand, Harry is that we don't really like humans. They kill us and are food for us. We prefer to keep to ourselves. When it is time for the final battle we will fight for and with the light side but until then we will let the world believe we are dark, evil creatures."

Harry nodded, eyes dull in acceptance.

Draco glanced at him and a faint flash of worry crossed his mind. He'd only once seen a new changeling before in his life and the woman had been going between screaming fits and hysterical crying because she simply couldn't believe she was a vampire. Potter so far had taken everything in without so much as flinching. The bird was right. It hadn't actually hit Potter yet that he was a vampire, and the longer he held it off the worse it would be when it finally broke free.

"So all the stuff I read on vampires in my Defence Against the Dark Arts book is all crap?"

Narcissa giggled and Lucius grinned.

"Not quite. Some of it is true but not as easy as they make it out to be, for instance: we can change into any animal we wish but it's a lot like becoming an Animagus. The form of the animal must be completely understood and practised over and over again until we can fully change into it. We basically are Animagus' that can turn into more than one form, but it takes time. Draco can only change into a panther, a hawk, a snake, and a, um, ferret."

A faint tinge of pink graced Draco's cheeks as Harry glanced sharply at him.

"I take it after the fake Moody transformed him in fourth year?"

Lucius nodded, clearly trying not to laugh.

"Understand, Harry that all the books written on vampires are by humans. They can't completely understand us unless they become us, and if they did then they wouldn't be willing to spread our secrets over a page anyone could read. Heaven knows, vigilantes and Auors kill enough of us each year. If they knew we were actually organised, governed by a council, and not deranged, psychopathic killers they would redouble their efforts to wipe us out."

"But surely, if they knew you just wanted to be left alone and didn't want any trouble they'd back off slightly? Like the high elves are treated."

Narcissa sighed, sweeping a long fingered hand over the polished wood of the tabletop.

"I wish it were that simple, Harry. We may be long-lived like the high elves and as beautiful as them, but the difference is that they don't kill humans unless they are threatened. You've feed Harry, otherwise you wouldn't be sitting here, you know how sweet the blood is, how hard it is to pull away. Every now and then one of us can't stop and ends up with a dead body. We're instantly branded as blood crazed murders that should be destroyed, just because we're trying to survive."

Lucius took over.

"In time though that would be forgotten, but just as there are good and bad humans like Merlin and Voldemort, there are good and bad vampires, and the bad ones stain our past. The humans don't forget them and judge us all from their actions."

There was a ringing silence filled with regret and remembered pain.

Narcissa glanced up at the clock.

"Merlin! We've been in here all morning! Draccy dear, you'd better start Harry on his training if he wants to be at least partly ready for school in September."

Draco nodded and stood gracefully before giving a nasty grin.

"Come on then, Potter. Time to start the torture!"

Harry, who had been stony faced up to that point, flinched and his breathing hitched. It lasted only a fraction of a second, too quick for a human to pick up, but all three Malfoy's saw it and wondered.

As the Gryffindor was standing from the table a tiny blur span into the room and started to dance crazily around the four vampires heads hooting happily.

"Pig," Harry muttered. Draco sent him a bewildered look and Harry raised one delicate eyebrow.

"Ron's owl," he explained, and as the small bird shot past, caught it in one easy movement.

He pulled the letter from the squirming birds leg and released it again to soar around the chandelier.

Green eyes stared blankly down as the slightly crumpled envelope before glancing up at his hosts.

"Would you excuse me for a minute, if I don't reply Ron'll think something's wrong."

Narcissa nodded, her hair bouncing in soft golden strands around her. It was so hard to believe that she was one of the most dangerous creatures on the planet.

"Of course, Harry! Why don't you meet Draco out by the east side of the lake afterwards and he can begin your training, Linky will show you how to get there."

Harry bowed his head slightly.

"Thank you."

Then he turned and marched out of the room with Pig, more bouncing than flying, along behind him.

The second the door had shut behind him Narcissa turned to her son, worry plain on her face.

"Are you sure you'll be able to take this on, Draco? He's standing on a knife edge there."

Draco stared long and hard at the door his enemy had retreated out of, but was Harry his enemy anymore? He felt just as lost as the other boy did as he was standing on unknown ground as well.

"I don't know, mother. Our laws say I must."

The blond let out a heavy sigh and his shoulders sagged as if they had the weight of the world on them.

"He's strong, very strong. We could easily end up killing each other, and... I don't know who he is anymore. I feel completely thrown. He's a stranger to me; nothing that used to get a rise out of him does now. I don't know how to act around him. Should I be the spoilt prince of Slytherin that he knows from school, or should I just be me?"

A soft hand gently raised his chin until he found himself staring into the warm blue eyes of his mother. She smiled softly.

"Your heart will tell you, Draco, don't push aside your feelings. Harry needs someone to just be there, he probably doesn't know who he is anymore either and needs something familiar to just hang on to."

She straightened up; brushing off her fine dress as she backed away to a different door from the one Harry had left by, which her husband was holding open for her.

"It's up to you, Draco," was the last thing she said before his parents left him alone in the huge room.

The silver-eyed boy stared tiredly up at the ceiling; everything had become so complicated over such a short length of time.

"For once in my life I have no idea what to do," he muttered to himself before turning and striding out through the French windows and heading towards the lake as dark clouds began to gather overhead.

Harry stepped quietly into his room. A quick glance at the mantelpiece showed him it had been replaced.

Walking over to sit in the alcove by the window he stared dully out at the growing storm clouds blotting out the bright sun and blue sky.

_Why do I feel like they're rolling over my life as well?_

A soft sigh filled the room and Harry finally looked down at the letter clutched tightly in his pale hand.

_What would Ron and Hermione do if I told them?_

He watched, almost in a daze, as a slender finger he seemed to have no control over slowly rose and tore open the envelope. A parchment covered with a familiar lopsided scrawl fell onto his lap. Again his hand betrayed him by picking it up and opening it out for his unwanting eyes to read:

Hiya Harry!  
How are you? Hope the Muggles haven't been treating  
you too badly. Are they feeding you all right? If not, just remember:  
mum's the word! Sorry mate, bad joke, huh? Hermione's gonna  
come stay for the rest of the holiday in two weeks time!  
I've talked to dad about letting you come over and stay but he  
says Dumbledore says you're safer where you are. I could  
understand that a year ago but dad's in a much higher postion

at the Ministry now! I mean only Hogwarts is better warded

then our house!  
Talking about dad's work, apparently something really weird  
happened yesterday, I didn't catch all of it because me and Fred  
were fighting over the last Extendible Ear but they were talking  
about someone beating the living crap out of a few Death Eaters!  
And guess what! Pettigrew was one of them! They're putting  
him on trial tomorrow! At least now the world will know Sirius is

innocent, kills me that it's too late though. I'm real sorry mate.  
Anyway, apparently there was a really powerful energy residue  
left there. I heard dad say that the boy who fought them  
couldn't have possibly handled them alone and must have had  
some supernatural help without him knowing it. Scary, I pity  
the kid, supernatural beings only help people they're interested  
in for their own reasons, imagine having a banshee stalking  
you everywhere!  
Hey, you were near there at the time (there's pictures of you  
and this kid hugging on the front of the Daily Profit) so did  
you see anything? No freaky people hanging about? Anyway,  
what where you doing in Diagon Alley? Dumbledore's pissed, I heard.  
Did anything happen on your sixteenth? I can't see if you look  
any different on the photo 'cos you keep you back to everyone.  
Anyway. I gotta go! Hope you liked the pressie!  
Later!  
Ron

Harry groaned and let his head fall back against the cool wood he was resting on. How could he have forgotten that everyone would have sent him presents? They had probably arrived shortly after he'd left Privet Drive and were now most likely crushed at the bottom of the Dursleys' bin.

He rose smoothly and walked over to his trunk, pulled out a quill and parchment then sat at the finely crafted writing desk beside the window.

Hi Ron,  
Everything's fine, the Dursleys are as dull as ever,  
I'm being feed ok so stop worrying.  
We'll just have to go with what Dumbledore says.  
I hope you have a nice time with Hermione and I'll see  
you in September.  
Thanks for the present.  
Harry

Harry slowly put the pen down and stared at what he had written. It sounded so... distant.

It suddenly hit him that nothing would be the same between him and his two closest friends ever again. He wasn't human anymore and they were. He hunted them, they hunted him. Ron had been raised to loathe his kind and Hermione would have found out all about vampires from books that were written by humans. Best to push them away now. What if one of them slipped and cut themselves back at school, would he be able to resist? Harry's worst nightmare was unfolding before his eyes, a nightmare where he was the thing that would end up hurting the people he loved. He couldn't do it. Mustn't. But the only way to stop that happening was if he severed himself completely from them, made them hate him so they wouldn't want to be near him.

As he affixed the letter to Pig's leg he was mildly shocked that it didn't hurt so much. He was aware that it did hurt, but it was like someone had put a thick blanket between him and the pain: aware, but not able to feel it. Numb.

Numb as he went to the window and threw Pig out into the breaking storm.

Numb as he walked calmly down the many flights of stairs back towards the dining room.

Numb as he crossed the wooded floor and walked out through the French windows, heading towards the lake he could see from there.

Numb as the rain began to pour around him, soaking him to the skin in a matter of seconds.

Numb as he heard someone yelling his surname and turned to see Draco jogging towards him, the rain plastering his shirt and jeans to his slim body and his silver hair to his head.

"I said come on, Potter! We can't train in this!"

Draco slowed to a stop in front of Harry who was looking at him blankly.

"Potter! What is with you? Did some of that Muggle's blood go to your head or something? Snap out of it!"

Draco was about to reach forward to shake the boy by his shirt when the raven's words came rushing back from the night before:

_"Don't touch him, not even a pat on the arm."_

The blond hesitated before letting his hand drop back to his side staring with growing alarm at the other boy who was still empty eyed and had started to mutter under his breath. Draco had to strain slightly to hear it over the roar of the rain but managed to pick it up.

"Not human. Hurt humans. Not human. Hurt humans. Not human. Hurt humans."

"Oh shit!" Draco snarled before sending out a desperate mental call to his parents:

Mum! Dad! He's breaking!

As he focused again on the grey landscape before him he noticed the air was wavering, as if in intense heat.

\He's building up all the power that's inside him! He doesn't know he's doing it! It's going to be release in one huge blast!\

Draco looked up at the sound of the familiar voice in his mind in time to see Potter's rain drenched raven spiral down to land on his shoulder.

Both quickly spun to see green flames spring up in the air around Harry, making his wet hair wave around him in heavy strands, but not harming him. The boy still stared blankly ahead with eyes the same colour as the flames.

Draco began to back away. He was a vampire, who could live for more than a thousand years, and had no intention of dying after only living sixteen of them.

Something gathered in the corned of one of Harry's eyes as the power continued to grow around him, making the very ground tremble. It broke and spilled down Harry's face before falling to the ground and shattering in a thousand droplets over the damp grass.

Slowly Harry raised a hand to his face to wipe at the skin before pulling his hand away to stare at the liquid staining his fingertips. It was blood. He couldn't ever cry like a human anymore.

He jerkily raised his head, his emerald eyes meeting the shocked silver ones of Draco.

"Heh, if I cried all the tears I have buried inside of me we'd have crimson rain for years. I never used to let myself cry because it was weak. Now I can't cry because everyone would know what I am. Not. Human."

The power built even more around him, taking it to an impossible level. Draco desperately backed further away shaken at the words he had heard and spotted a large rock beside him. Without hesitation he dived behind it, burrowing down in the soaking grass as his hair fell around his face, unconsciously pulling the raven into the safety of his arms.

A distant sound behind him alerted him to the fact that his parents were running out of the house with half the manors staff behind them to gather on the patio, looking down at Harry standing by the edge of the lake wreathed in green flames, in awe and fear.

"Get back in the house! It's not safe!" Draco screamed desperately. He could hear Harry repeating the last two words he'd said to him, getting louder each time as the power grew to unimaginable proportions.

Across the country beings of magic stopped whatever they were doing as they felt the awesome power grow. The high elves froze in their trees, the unicorns tensed in their forests and the vampires gasped in their caves. And in two different places in the country the two most famously powerful wizards in the world dropped the teacup one was holding and the body of a muggle the other was holding to straighten up and whisper; "what is that?"

"Not human."

"Not human!"

"NOT HUMAN!"

"NOT HHHUUUMMMMAAANNNNNN!"

And with that last desperate scream Harry released the power he'd been holding. It ripped away from him; tearing up the earth in violent chunks, evaporating the water with its intense heat, setting the very air on fire and spreading out in one huge explosion of uncontrolled pain determined to destroy everything in its path.

Draco screamed as the explosion filled his vision, the sound deafening him, the taste of the burning grass filling his mouth, and the smell of the scorching earth filling his nose.

He was going to die.

A huge force ripped him away from his meagre shelter and tore him up into the air. Pain filled his body as his last thought was; 'what a pity, I could have actually liked this new Harry Potter.'

Then his weak grip on consciousness was lost and the world faded to black.

Here ends the chapter.


	4. Nightmares Of Reality

A/N: Waaaahhhhhhhhhhhh! I'm finally back! does happy dance I had the worst case of writers block it was humiliating. Anyway you guys really are the best! You've all been so patient! Oh yeah, I'm also revamping the first three chapters so they fit properly with the fifth book! So without further ado I will stop blabbing and let you get on!

Chapter four - Nightmares of Reality

The first thing Draco became aware of was a cool sensation on his forehead, invading his muffled, black world. Slowly he began to notice the noise around him; a soft splash of water, the rustling of robes, booted feet sinking into a deep carpet, a sudden indrawn breath and three faint heartbeats - two beating faster and harder than the third.

The next thing he became aware of was that he _hurt_. Every muscle in his body felt as though it had had an angry herd of wild hippogriffs trample over it.

Tiredly he forced his heavy eyelids open then immediately shut them again at the blinding light burning his sensitive eyes. Warily he peeked one steely grey orb open again, slowly giving it time to adjust before doing the same to the other.

He was lying in his bed, the hangings pulled back to let the late morning sun in, which was shining far too cheerfully for Draco's taste. He glared balefully at it while pushing himself up with his elbows, before snapping his head around when he heard a chuckle, and regretting it a moment later as the room spun alarmingly.

A steady hand caught him as he started to fall face-first towards his silky green bed sheets and he blinked blearily up at a face that was strangely familiar.

A handsome young man with rich black hair pulled back into a practical ponytail, and piercing black eyes which were warm with laughter at that moment, smiled down at him. Like his hair and eyes the clothes he wore were pitch black; just an outer robe thrown on over a pair of trousers and a shirt. His body was slender but the steel hand that held Draco betrayed a hidden strength, and although he looked not a day older than nineteen his eyes told another story. _So, another vampire then, _Draco mused as he tried to vainly steady himself.

Again the man chuckled before drawling in a rich tenor although fondness seeped through the words.

"You gave us all quite a turn with your little fainting fit Draco; please at least ensure you're on the ground before you do it again."

Draco stared up at the man, recognition suddenly burning through his clouded mind.

"Uncle Sev?"

Severus Snape chuckled again, completely unrecognisable to the older, sallow and glaring potions master, quickly followed by checking Draco wasn't going to be making any more face dives before letting him go.

"And who else were you expecting?"

The silver haired boy blinked before the light joke registered, and he glared up at his professor and godfather, making the man break out into a full-bellied laugh.

"Well you seem to be none the worse for wear. Although I knew you were never really a morning person but I didn't know you were this bad!"

"Yes, he does have a tendency for being a bit of a grump in the mornings," a warm voice said from behind Severus. It was only then that Draco realised both his parents were in the room as well, relief showing plainly on their young faces.

Draco muttered the first response that came into his muzzy head.

"Yeah well I'm better than Potter; damn idiot almost blew my head off."

Silence greeted his remark and he looked up into three tense faces.

"What?" He asked, then it dawned on him - where was Potter?

"Where's Potter?"

Narcissca walked over to his bed from where she'd been standing by the door, today she was wearing a sky blue satin gown that matched her eyes perfectly and had opted to wear her hair up, with soft ringlets falling around her delicate face. She daintily sat herself on the edge of the bed and looked into her son's confused silver eyes.

"Harry is still unconscious Draco. The power blast he released was huge, using up the last of his energy, he's completely spent and has locked himself away in his mind until he's healed, physically anyway."

Draco slouched back on the comfortable pillows taking in what his mother was saying.

"Physically?"

Narcissa nodded.

"I'm not quite sure what's happened to him but something has wounded his soul very deeply, it may still tear him apart," she shrugged helplessly, "even if it does heal there will always be a scar that can be split open again. Whatever it is it's festering away inside of him and doing him no good to keep it bottled up. I think he needs your support Draco, even if he himself doesn't realise it yet."

Draco stared at his mother in bewilderment. So she knew too, but like him not the full answer; that something was wrong with Harry Potter.

"How long have I been unconscious?"

Severus glanced at the ornate clock hanging proudly on the far wall.

"Approximately two days, nine hours and seventeen minutes."

Draco couldn't help it. Maybe it was because his body was feeling so shaky after such an extreme trauma and not consuming any blood afterwards, maybe it was because he just wanted something to take his mind off the pain, or maybe it was because he'd found himself worrying for his mortal enemy for a few seconds; he laughed.

Severus' eyes narrowed dangerously, making Lucius hurriedly step forward and send him a warning look.

"Do you find something funny about how long you have been unconscious Mr Malfoy?"

Draco still laughing feebly waved a hand at the enraged Severus, knowing he'd better explain himself quickly or face the potion Masters wrath for daring to laugh at him.

"Lighten up Uncle Sev; I was only laughing because no one else would have bothered to have told me how long I'd been out right down to the very minuet!"

The blond boy dissolved into giggles again, his mother joining him on this round.

"Little Draccy's right Sevvy," she began, smirking at both her son's and friend's scowls at the nicknames, "you acted as though he was a brewing potion!"

Even Lucius joined in this time and Severus whirled to stare at him in dramatic betrayal.

"Well," he drawled, "it's so nice to know you appreciate my potion brewing talents." Then the dark haired man let a smirk slip onto his face as he stepped forward to lay a hand on Draco's shoulder.

"I'm just glad you're okay."

Draco got his laughter under control and stared seriously up into his godfathers face.

"Thank you."

Severus nodded and removed his hand, before striding over to a table Draco hadn't noticed to grab a vile lying among the herbs, pieces of nameless animals and a small cauldron. The potions master tossed the vile to Draco who reflexively caught it and gazed blankly at the light violet liquid inside.

"It's a strength restorative draught." Severus announced as he casually waved a long fingered hand and the table - with the equipment still on top - shrank to the size of a marble that he stooped to pick up and pocketed.

"Why are you giving it to me?" Draco asked even as he uncorked it and took a tentative sniff - with his sharp senses some potions could be strong enough to make him loose his sense of smell for a few hours. Surprisingly it had a soft scent of strawberries.

Severus shared an amused glance with Lucius before they both turned to the youngest Malfoy, who was still entranced with the potion.

"I would have thought that you might want to check on your change hmmm?" Severus announced, raising a slender eyebrow at him in slight disapproval.

_Shit_, Draco thought and quickly gulped down the potion. Potter was under his care and had obviously suffered a serious trauma of some sort over the holiday, but he'd barely even asked after the boy! Was he that heartless?

A gentle hand in his hair halted his hurried attempts to get out of bed and he looked up into the warm eyes of his mother.

"It's okay to forget Draco, after all this is the first time you've ever had to do anything like this, it's bound to be difficult at first but you'll find it gets easier with time."

She stroked his hair with a tender smile on her face before leaning forward and placing a soft kiss on his forehead.

"Take your time. It'll do Harry no good if you rush and collapse on the way to see him, he'll still be there."

The silver haired boy nodded his thanks as Narcissa stood and began to usurer the two men out of the room, throwing one last smile over her shoulder as she reached the door.

"We'll wait out here for you, ask Linky if you need any help," and with that she firmly shut the door.

Draco sat motionless for a few moments going over what his mother had said, then slid from under the silk covers and cautiously put his bare feet on the floor. He quickly crossed the room after letting his feet adjust to the cold floor and pulled a simple yet stylish pair of black trousers from his wardrobe along with a subtle grey shirt with silver hints that matched his hair and eyes perfectly. After pulling on a pair of shoes he spent several minutes arranging his hair in the mirror before smirking in satisfaction and striding from his room to find his parents and godfather waiting for him in the sitting room.

"I'm ready," he announced.

As they were walking down the corridor towards Harry's rooms a thought occurred to Draco and he turned to Severus, who was walking beside him, carefully monitoring him for any lasting bad effects from the outburst of power.

"Sev, I know I can go without blood for more than a week, but because Potter's a new changling he can't go more than a day without suffering, so how have you kept him alive if he can't feed?"

Severus smiled at the boy's sharp intelligence.

"Oh, he's still alive Draco, we actually have muggels to thank for this."

"Muggels?"

Severus nodded as they reached the door to Harry's rooms, Lucius and Narcissa going first and leading the way across the wide sitting room. Draco waited impatiently behind them, resisting the strange urge to run around them and burst into Potter's room. Painstakingly slowly - in Draco's opinion anyway - they opened the door and stepped inside, Draco followed immediately with Severus closely behind.

The room was almost the same as it had been the last time Draco had been in the room; everything appearing untouched apart from the open letter from Weasley on the writing table and the large trunk at the foot of the four postered bed.

Harry was lying on the soft mattress, the only movement being his chest going slowly up and down as he drew in every breath as if it were his last. His eyes were closed, his long lashes brushing his pale cheeks and Draco was surprised that even in a coma Potter still had a pained frown creasing his forehead. The Slytherin was also shocked at how fragile Potter suddenly seemed. When he was awake he radiated a power that always made him appear much bigger. Now unconscious Draco could see just how thin he had become, and the way his skin was so translucent that the blond's sharp eyes could see the veins faintly pulsing underneath. His face looked gaunt with his sharp cheekbones casting dark shadows and his eyes, even closed, appeared huge. He looked like a war orphan, which was exactly what he was.

Draco stared transfixed at his rival and felt a deep unsettlement wrap around his heart. It struck him that Potter might _not_ survive, which was something in all the years that they'd waged their private war with each other that had never occurred to Draco. Potter was just always _there_; something that he could always rely on being the same when everything else went to hell. And suddenly the only thing he felt was certain was suddenly not so certain at all.

Severus walked past his wide-eyed godson and adjusted something standing beside the bed. Draco gave it a half glance, went back to staring at his rival then jerked and tore his eyes back to the object Severus was checking over.

"What in seven hell's is _that_?" He half screeched, Severus winced and Lucius and Narcissa stifled sniggers.

"_That_ is what is keeping your charge alive. It's a muggle contraption used in hospitals and it's called a drip."

Draco gazed in fascination at the tall stand with an odd hook on the top. Suspended from the hook was a bag of blood, which had a thin tube attached to the end. Draco's steel grey eyes followed the winding tube down until he found the tip imbedded in Harry's limp arm.

"You stab him with it!"

Severus sighed and gazed longingly out at the sun bathed forest outside the windows before turning back to the youngest Malfoy who looked like he was going to have a fit.

"Yes Draco. The tube is attached to a needle that I inserted into Potter's arm, it is the only way to get the blood he needs into his body."

Draco stared blankly at the tall young man dressed in black before him when a sudden rich pounding of wings filled the air and a heavy weight settled on his shoulder.

\Sounds messy but it really is the best way dragon boy.\

Draco glared at the huge raven nestled comfortably on his shoulder.

"Oh. It's you."

\Don't sound so pleased.\

"Fine then I won't. Get the hell off my shoulder, this shirt cost fifty galleons."

\Well, excuse my common claws for daring to touch your godly shoulder.\

Griffin pushed off Draco's shoulder and glided across the room to land beside Harry's unmoving head then tenderly pull a few strands away from his master and friends face.

Draco, angered at Griffin's sarcasm strode over to the windows and glared unseeingly out at the magnificent view beyond.

So Potter was unconscious. Big deal. It wasn't like he'd never been unconscious before. He probably had a permanent bed put to one side just for him in the hospital wing back at Hogwarts, he was in there enough. And the whole mystery experience he'd had over the summer, his relatives had probably got sick of his big head and boastful comments and kicked him out.

Draco angrily pushed aside the small voice in his head that was telling him that he knew it was something more serious than that. But just for the moment he didn't want to listen to that voice; the voice he knew was always right. He just wanted to moan about Potter and how much he hated him and not have this _unsureness_ flowing through him. He wanted things to go back to the way they were, although deep down he knew they'd never be the same way again. They _couldn't_ ever be the same way again, too many things had changed and Draco found himself mentally exhausted from the fast pace. First Potter actually being a vampire, then the dark haired boy saying he wasn't bitten, then Draco having to invite him back to his _home_, and then the huge blast of power, and of course not forgetting that Potter now seemed to be an entirely different person.

"Yep, way too many things are different," Draco mused aloud.

"What was that Draco?" Lucius asked as he turned away from watching Severus work over the deathly still patient.

"Nothing," Draco sighed, eyes finally focusing on the view before him and found himself morbidly wondering how long it would last before it all died.

Severus straightened from his stooped position by the bed and rolled his shoulders to crack his back, a soft, satisfied sigh escaping his thin lips.

"Well everything seems to be in order and his bodies fully healed, all he needs to do now is wake up," the potion's master snorted at his own comment. "But knowing Potter he'll drag things out as much as possible."

Suddenly he gave a pained yelp and turned to glare down into two piercing sky blue eyes.

"What was that for Narccy?" He snarled rubbing the back of his head gingerly where she had landed an impressive smack.

"He's not like that Sev and you know it! Stop taking out your anger for James on him! He doesn't even look like him anymore, so why do you carry on with this childish game?"

Severus looked appropriately crestfallen but sent a dark glower at the still boy in the bed.

"Because he's as spoiled a brat as James Potter was, always having everything handed to him on a golden platter!"

Narcissa threw up her hands in frustration and her gown swirled in an impressive wave of satin around her as she turned and stalked towards the door, anger coming off her in almost visible waves. Lucius threw a meaningful glance that clearly said _stay here_ to Draco before grabbing the startled Snape and marching him from the room. The door shut behind them with a decisive _thunk_ but the slightly muffled voices coming through the thick wood showing that they had gone no further than the living room.

Draco stared blankly about him for a few moments, unsure of what to do. He'd normally leave and go back to his own rooms but as his head of house and parents were currently between him and the hall leading to his quarters he'd have to wait until they finished.

A smirk spread across his pouty lips as his eyes settled on the trunk at the end of Potter's bed. Now if he could only get rid of that damn bird he'd be able to nose through Potter's things to see if he could find anything he could use as blackmail later on, a porn magazine maybe. He sniggered at the thought of Potter's face before turning and finding himself staring into a pair of balefully glaring yellow eyes.

\Don't even think about it dragon boy.\

"You don't even know what I was going to do!" Draco protested.

\It was quite simple to guess, you're as easy to read as an open book.\

"Bullshit!" Draco snapped before flinging himself into one of the squashy armchairs near the fire, slinging one long leg over the arm and sulking childishly at the wall. An uneasy silence settled over the room, broken only by the occasional shifting of Griffin's wings and the gentle murmur of voices from the living room.

Draco found his ears unconsciously tuning in onto what was being said and soon forgot all about his sulking as the conversation progressed.

"-load of nonsense," Severus was saying in his velvety voice.

"You know it's not Sev," Lucius replied.

"Just think about it for a second Sev! It all fits; him just turning up out of nowhere, the power he has and I bet you that if you ask him who changed him he'll say he wasn't bitten at all."

"There are two very good responses to that Narccy; one, he can't be asked on the slight account of being unconscious for the moment, and two, it's impossible for a human to be changed without being bitten. Have you checked to see if his master just erased themselves from his memory?"

"That was the first thing I did and no he hasn't," Narcissa replied.

"I refuse to believe that _Potter_ of all of the vampires out there could be the 'akarui kurai,'(1)" Snape said stubbornly and Draco could practically see him crossing him arms in that oh so familiar way across his chest.

"You're not listening to me Sev!" Narcissa finally snapped, "Harry shouldn't even exist!"

_What_? Draco jumped out of the chair and hurried over to press his ear against the oak door, positive he must have heard what his mother said incorrectly. There was just no way _Potter_ wasn't meant to be the living, breathing _annoying _person he was. No way.

"It's scientifically and magically impossible for Harry Potter to be alive and we all know that!"

Draco pulled his head away from the door and stared blankly at the intricate pattern in the wood that swirled before his eyes. He suddenly felt light headed. Angrily his shook his head, not caring when his hair spilled free of its usual slicked back style and fell in delicate strands around his paler than normal face.

"All vampires knew and respected the Potter clan, one of the most powerful vampire families in the wizarding world. But then Voldemort tried to recruit them and they turned him down, so he killed them off one by one over the years, until James and a few of his cousins who'd gone into hiding were the only one's left."

_Why's she telling it in such detail if they know it already? _Draco mused, _unless...she can't actually want me to hear this on purpose can she?_

"And then James got engaged to Lily," Severus supplied in a voice that sounded very old. Draco knew that Snape had cared for Lily and the weight of her death still hung heavily on his shoulders.

"Precisely. A rich, pureblood lamie engaged to a poor, muggleborn, _human_ girl. Do you remember the commotion it caused?"

"Who could forget?" Murmured Lucius, obviously lost in distant memories.

"And one of the few things that human professors researching our race got right was that vampires and humans couldn't bare a child together."

"So even though they were getting married they knew it would be a childless union," Severus supplied.

"And then the worst happened," Lucius whispered.

Draco pressed himself as close as possible to the wood; the only way he could get any further into the room was by pushing through the door itself.

"Yes," Narcissa breathed, "Lily was attacked by Deatheaters on her way home and fatally wounded."

There was a heavy silence on the other side of the door, broken by a soft sniffing from Draco's mother.

"James made the decision to turn her even though he knew he'd be cursing her to a hunted life, he just couldn't bare to lose her," Narcissa continued.

"They still would have never been able to have children though," Lucius put in, almost as if he were musing aloud, "I suppose that's the worst thing about being a changling; you can't have a child with a human or a lamie, only another changling and even then most become sterile when they're turned. No offence Sev."

"None taken, I made my choice. If I want a child I can adopt."

"I can remember exactly where I was and what I was doing when I got the letter from Lily saying she was pregnant," Narcissa's voice was so quiet that even Draco's sharp hearing had a hard time picking it up.

"I was in France at our summer villa, and I was outside on the pagoda having a glass of Chardonnay. A pure white owl flew out of the sky, dropped the letter and left," a soft laugh followed. "It was more of a scribbled note than a letter because she was so happy. I left the villa immediately to see if it was really true and to my shock found out that it was!"

"And nine months later a healthy baby boy was born," Lucius added.

"And a year later James and Lily were ...murdered and Potter freed us from the Dark Lord until his fourth year," Severus whispered.

"So besides a few distant cousins the last of that magnificent bloodline is impossibly alive in the next room, but looking like he's tearing himself to pieces from the inside out," Narcissa finished.

There was another long pause where Draco ran the dizzying turn of events through his head, desperately trying to make a little more sense out of them, but quickly came to the annoying conclusion that until he got some more information, he was in over his head.

"The Counsel must be informed about this," Lucius finally spoke up, his voice full of authority as the master of the manor's voice should be.

"Indeed, even if the brat was normal - which I highly doubt he could ever be - they'd have to be informed that there was a new changling," Severus agreed.

"Very well then, let's go down to the drawing room to compose the letter then, this is a very delicate situation," Narcissa's voice was back to her soft flow, which people greatly underestimated and then found out to their shock that under the gentle looks and silky words was a mind like a ball of steel and a heart as courageous as a lions.

The murmur of voices and sound of footsteps faded away, leaving the quiet to roar in Draco's ears.

Slowly the tall, blond boy sat back on his heels, silvery eyes wide with shock and hair in disarray. Then he turned and sent a poisoness look across the sun filled room to the pale figure lying motionless in the huge bed.

"Why'd you always have to be so damned special?"

During the next two days Draco rarely strayed from Harry's room despite his loud protests about how he hated the younger boy. He spent most of his time either finishing his homework or calling Harry every insult under the sun to try and rouse the boy.

"You always put me down in front of the teachers! Just because you're the 'Golden Gryffindor' and I'm the 'Slytherin Snake.' Well there's more to me than that, Potter and if you'd have taken my hand in the first year you would have discovered that, but noooooo! You had to go and pick the Weasel over me! Damn, you always take everything at face value, typical Gryffindork!"

\Have you quite finished?\

The blond spun around to see Griffin fly in through the open window to alight on the soft pillows beside Harry's unmoving head.

"Do I look finished, cuckoo?"

The raven bristled at the irritable nickname Draco had given him over the past few days and cracked its beak angrily before taking flight again, heading back for the window.

\Very well then, it looks like I'll be sleeping in the roosters again. Goodnight baby dragon.\

"And good riddance to you!" Draco screamed after the fast disappearing black shape, before slamming the window shut in a fit of anger.

He stormed back to the armchair he'd dubbed 'his' and threw himself into it, pulling his booted feet up to rest them on top of his Transfiguration textbook that was open on the sturdy table before him. One slender hand rising to brush imaginary dust off his clingy black t-shirt. With a dramatic sigh he crossed his long legs, the baggy dark blue jeans rustling as he did. A few long chains at his waist rattled as he shifted into a more comfortable position.

"Probably thinks I'll try to bloody well smother you if it turns its back on me."

He twisted his head around to send an accusing stare at the silent figure, dwarfed by the huge bed.

"Remember Potter that I'd never sink as low as to try to kill you in your sleep."

Draco's eyes widened in shock at the words that had just spilled from his own mouth as he leapt to his feet, a faint flush making its way over his proclaim cheeks.

"I didn't mean it like that! I don't give a shit about you!"

Flustered he spun away, clenching his fists at his side. His hair - which he had stopped gelling back over the past two days - fell in silky silver strands over his eyes, hiding the most expressive part of his face as he bowed his head.

"It's just that," he whispered, more to himself then to the unconscious boy behind him, "you've always burned so brightly. It just wouldn't seem ...right, you just fading away like that. I always pictured you going down fighting, being the bloody 'Wonder Boy' until the very end."

He halted and turned - almost nervously - back to the bed. Half of him afraid Harry would have woken up and had heard what he had said. The other half he quickly pushed back down, ignoring the fact that, for a fleeting moment, he'd hoped that the Gryffindor _had_ heard.

One booted foot took a hesitant step towards the bed.

"You know, before I went to Hogwarts I wanted to be you friend. I'd grown up listening to stories about how you'd saved the world and struck down the evil wizard. I knew that even thought I had to pretend that I supported Voldemort _you'd _see through the act, and you'd understand, then we'd become friends. Inseparable. The 'Deadly Duo' we'd be known by, as we'd play all kinds of pranks on the other students."

Another step.

"And then I really met you, in Madam Malkins remember? You were so different from what I expected that I just said the first thing that came to mind, and I could see that with every thing I said you grew more and more annoyed with me, so I tried to impress you with my knowledge of Hogwarts and money. You practically sprinted out of the shop afterwards and I went home in tears because you hadn't seen through my mask, and you hadn't understood. The next time we met on the train, I purposely picked a fight with Weasley because he seemed to so easily get exactly what I wanted from you so desperately."

There was a faint snort and another step forward, bringing the teenager almost level with the bed.

"You want to know what I've learned over the years Potter? I've learned that knowledge is all well and good; your friend Granger is very knowledgeable for example. But knowledge is learned from a book, while intelligence is learned from life. You Potter, are intelligence. I'm not."

One last step and Draco's knees brushed the dark blue bedcovers.

"It's taken me a long time to learn that and an even longer time to admit to myself that while I by no means like you, I do respect you."

Draco let his eyes run over his adversary, taking in the now too thin frame, the translucent skin, made even paler but the raven hair spread like a drop of black ink in water across the pillows. He looked like a paper doll that a gust of wind could sweep away.

"Play fair Potter. I can't fight you honourably if you carry on doing the 'spun glass' act."

The young lamie noticed that a long strand of hair was lying across Harry's face and absentmindedly reached down to brush it away.

His fingertips gently touched the soft skin of Harry's cheek and the world around Draco was suddenly ripped aside.

Pink fog clouded everything; his sight, his smell, his hearing and his taste. The blond's sense of touch had shrunk down to the area of his fingertips resting on the Gryffindors cool skin.

_What the hell is this!_

Then it started to hurt.

It was only mildly uncomfortable to start with, but it grew in sharp bursts until his whole body was trembling under the onslaught of the intense feeling of electrical currents pouring from Harry into him, through his body and then back into Harry again.

He couldn't move. Not a single molecule was under his command as he screamed for some kind of release in his mind.

It - the pink fog and electric currents - was trying to get him to do something. Understand something. But what?

Draco gathered the last of his dwindling strength and focused it all into removing his fingers from the other boy's cheek.

With a phenomenal effort he ripped his hand away, the pink and painful currents instantly vanished making the room snap back into unpleasantly sharp focus, although for some reason everything seemed to be swaying from side to side as if he were on a boat.

Draco last thought before consciousness slipped away and uncomplicated darkness took him into its gentle embrace was that maybe that was the reason why Potter was so jumpy about people touching him.

_He waited._

_For what, he could not say._

_All he knew was that he was waiting._

_Silence stretched away either side of him._

_He rested in a place that was neither Here nor There._

_Floating in a foetal position in air the thickness of syrup._

_He knew he was naked, but his vulnerability did not scare him as it had of late._

_Here he knew he would not be used._

_Here he knew he would not be hurt._

_But why should he be afraid of being hurt?_

_Who had hurt him?_

_He shifted, stretching out his slender body slightly as a frown marred his features._

_He couldn't remember, and the more he strained to remember, the more distant his memories became, until they dwindled away to such insignificant shadows that he relaxed._

_What was the point of remembering if he knew it was going to hurt?_

_He knew he was safe here and that was all that mattered._

_A movement in front of him._

_He didn't hear it, more he felt it, rippling through the treacle air._

_Slowly, he raised his head and opened his eyes._

_Everything around him was red: a deep, dark blood red._

_But he could still see the two black-cloaked figures standing with their bodies and faces hidden by the thick folds of fabric a few feet in front of him._

_As he watched the cloaks suddenly started to distort and bulge around their higher backs, stretching out above and away from the figures until the fabric couldn't take the strain and ripped._

_The sight that met his eyes made his jaw drop._

_They were him._

_Exact copies._

_Down to the way they slightly tilted their heads to one side and absentmindedly pulled their fringe down over their foreheads: over their scar._

_Except for one noticeable difference._

_Towering over their slight frames were thick, powerful wings._

_But one replica had a jet-black pair._

_The other pure white._

_He stared._

_They stared back with the same eyes._

_Were his eyes really that big? Really that colour?_

_Before he had a chance to muse more, the replicas pulled something out that they'd been hiding behind their backs._

_It was a glass globe the size of a basketball, beautifully crafted and very delicate._

_The replica with white wings supported it in his left hand, the replica with black wings in his right._

_They were still looking at him._

_He shifted and uncurled completely, feeling slightly intimidated by the height they had on him when he was rolled up in his little, safe ball._

_In one smooth movement both doubles held out the hand that was holding the globe as if wanting to pass it to him._

_He tried to take a step forward, suddenly feeling oddly protective over the glass ball. But found to his horror that it was like trying to wade through deep water._

_With each painstaking step he took towards them, they seemed a little further away. The globe held tantalisingly just out of reach._

_Frustrated now he tried to lunge forward, hands outstretched and reaching._

_They dropped it._

_The glass globe fell in slow motion, and as it fell it became a little more solid but no less delicate._

_He could make out strange designs on it now as he carried on throwing himself forward but they were still too faint to make out properly._

_He chanced a desperate glance up at the duplicates, as if to ask them _why _they had purposely dropped something so precious._

_What he saw was the black winged double following the globes fall with eyes that seemed to carry the deepest sadness and regret possible, but the figure did not reach out to stop its fall._

_The white winged duplicate on the other hand, looked like nothing was making him happier than the globes inevitable destruction. A smirk so cold and cruel it could make even the hardest man's knees tremble was spread across the doubles face as he tracked the glass balls journey to the invisible floor with malicious glee._

_As the globe neared the non-existent ground the faint designs inscribed on it became frighteningly clear._

_It couldn't be, but it was._

_It was the world._

_He could see every country in crystal clear detail._

_He made a last wild grab at it._

_It passed mere millimetres from the tips of his fingers to shatter into thousands of jagged fragments._

_As it shattered he thought he heard a cacophony of screams in his head, and realised that everyone he'd ever loved was gone._

_In miserable agony he looked up only to find the duplicates staring at him again._

"_It's your choice."_

_The words echoed around him yet the doubles mouths had not moved._

"_It all depends on what path you will take."_

_He stared._

_But it looks like no matter what I do the world will be destroyed! He desperately wanted to shout._

_The doubles nodded._

"_Yes, that's right. But it is your choice whether the world you know and love will die and life will go on, or if you stubbornly cling to what you know you can no longer have and the world will be destroyed utterly and all life as it is known will inevitably end."_

_They turned their backs and started to walk away across the blood red none landscape._

"_Just remember that you will always have a choice."_

_They faded into infinity. The last thing to vanish was the dully-gleaming feathers of their wings._

_He hopelessly curled back into a foetal position, desperately wishing he could forget what he had just seen and heard._

_He just wanted peace, for once in his life._

_Amidst the faded memories, one swam back to clarity. He tried to shield away but it latched onto him like a leech and burned itself behind his tightly shut eyelids._

_His name._

"_I hate you Harry Potter," he whispered to himself in his mind._

Draco awoke to find himself on the floor.

A rather uncomfortable floor to be exact.

With a groan that made him feel like someone was gleefully pounding hot nails into his temples, he sat up.

He was still in Potter's room.

The sky had significantly darkened outside so he must have been out for several hours, but not long enough for anyone to become worried about him and search him out.

What the hell had happened?

Gingerly Draco climbed to his feet. As he straightened his head swam and his vision briefly blacked out.

Okay, apparently he was going to have to take things gently.

"Just my bloody luck," he muttered then instantly regretted it.

There had been ...pink fog, and pain after he had touched Potter's skin.

_Note to self_, Draco thought grimly. _Do. Not. Do. That. Again._

A vague memory of his mother mentioning something about pink light surfaced in his muddled mind, but the young lamie felt it would be a distinctively bad idea to talk to his mother about the situation otherwise he'd be bed-bound for the rest of the summer holidays. He loved his mother dearly, but she could be ridiculously over-protective sometimes.

His father was out of the question, as was Severus, as his mother had both of the men wrapped around her little finger.

There was only one other option then: the library.

"Be good while I'm away Potty," Draco sent a last insult over his shoulder as he staggered dizzily to the door, partly because he'd been insulting the boy non-stop over the past two days in a vain attempt to wake him up and partly for traditions sake.

As the blond slowly made his way down the corridor he racked his mind to try and remember what his mother had told him about this strange situation.

All he got was a faint smell of roses, the warmth of the midday summer sun and the strong feeling that he was very young again, five, maybe six. His mother's warm voice was telling him something about two vampires meeting, that the pink fog signified something important and that she hoped he would experience it someday like she did. But little Draco wanted to go and play on his brand new Kannon broomstick and wasn't paying attention to his mother.

The present Draco cursed his younger past self for not listening as he arrived at the library door, but now he knew what section to look under; vampiric relationships.

He pushed the door open and stepped into a room that would have sent Hermione Granger into orgasmic bliss, but did not look around the impressive room at the thousands of carefully looked after ancient tombs or thick oak bookcases that towered nearly to the high ceiling. Instead he honed in on one particular section and after browsing for several minutes carried five heavy looking books over to the small study area by the fireplace and settled comfortably in one of the dark green leather armchairs before grabbing the top volume off the stack on the table in front of him and opening it.

He eventually found what he was looking for two hours later.

And to say that after he'd found it all the unlit torches in the library exploded was only the start.

_Everything was pitch black again._

_All thoughts had faded and he just drifted._

_Uncomplicated and peaceful._

"_Harry."_

_The darkness trembled and he willed it to wrap around him in an unbreakable shroud. He didn't want to listen. He didn't!_

"_Harry!"_

_But ...the voice sounded familiar. Where had he heard it before?_

"_I ...I'm scared Harry."_

_Scared? Who? Why were they scared?_

"_Help me Harry!"_

_A little girl's voice. So familiar._

_He reached out, unconsciously pushing the darkness away as the fear in the mysterious voice pierced his fragile heart._

"_You said you'd make it go away!"_

_He had?_

_The black was starting to dissolve into a rich blue, falling away like the shards from a broken window._

"_You promised Harry!"_

_He'd promised? _

_His search grew more desperate, he couldn't let this person down! He knew they were important to him, very important if he'd promised them something. He couldn't break it! Too many promises had been broken to him for him to ever want to do it to someone else!_

"_Harry." The voice was sobbing now._

'_I'm here!' He tried to yell, but no sound came from his throat._

_Now the blue was melting away, feeling was beginning to return to him, everything hurt, but there was something soft beneath him and over him. His left arm was itching around the inside of his elbow._

"_Harry."_

_He could hear sounds; the soft crackling of a fire, the lonely howl of the wind._

_He could smell the sooty smell of burnt wood, and a distinctive wild smell that made him think of a large black bird. There were other faint smells that he could only place on people whose faces were blurred, but there was one that overlay everything else and filled his senses; rich with the citrusy tang of lemons. He breathed it in, unable to get enough of it, he knew it belonged to someone but a face was failing to materialise._

"_Please Harry!"_

_Instantly everything he had was focused on the voice and slowly, a picture started to make its way out of the inner sanctums of his mind; long chestnut hair, warm brown eyes, a sweet smile, small hands, a black feather on a length of leather cord, a silver bracelet with an emerald in the centre, a warm laugh. _

"_Please ..." _

_A name._

_Impossibly deep emerald eyes sprang open._

"Lily!"

Draco stood panting in, what had been up until twenty minutes ago, his favourite study spot in the library. Now it was just a charred ruin.

He glared down with burning silver eyes at the book that had miraculously remained unscathed.

It couldn't be true. It was impossible. There was just no way that Potter could be-

An alarmed squeak behind him made him spin faster then the eye could see and an investigating house elf suddenly found himself pinned to the wall by a very _pissed_ vampire.

In its head the house elf started to quote every prayer it had ever heard or read as fast as it possibly could.

"Um, Rink came to see if Master was alright, only Rink felt the destructive magic all the way from the basement."

Slowly, the insanely glowing silver eyes died down into sharp grey, and the steel grip around Rink's neck loosened then fell away completely.

"Yes, urm yes, I'm fine. Sorry for startling you," was the young vampires distracted reply.

Rink immediately threw himself to the ground and started bowing so frantically that his large head was a blur.

"Oh no! No no no! Rink is sorry for startling Master! Rink should be more considerate! Rink will make more noise in future!"

'Master' was barely hearing what the babbling house elf was saying as his eyes had returned to the book lying innocently on the floor. Such a simple looking thing. To think that what was in its yellowing pages was currently making Draco's life fall down around his ears.

The teenager gracefully stooped and picked the book up, holding it protectively close to his chest as it would not do for anyone else to find out. At all. Ever.

"Clean all this up would you please?" He called to the still babbling Rink as he headed for the library door. He just caught the happy reply that "of course Rink would clean up" as the door slammed shut behind him.

He knew that his parents and Sev would have felt the blast of magic and that his mother especially would have picked up on his anger so he quickly set up mental blocks in his mind, meaning that they would only be able to contact him telepathically if he wanted to let them in and that they wouldn't be able to pin point his physical location. Giving him the privacy he wanted so badly at the moment.

He headed, almost without realising it, to his secret place. He'd found it when he was nine and had always gone there whenever he wanted to shut himself off from the world. It was in one of the more hidden hallways where people rarely went and he'd discovered it purely by accident. Along a seemingly black stretch of wall three quarters of the way down the corridor he stopped and turned his piercing stare on it. Striding up to it he swung his hand in a violent arch at one specific, very hard looking stone. Instead of the bone breaking impact his hand sank into it as if it were made of dough. Questing fingers found the latch they were searching for and pulled. There was no change to the wall. Draco pulled his hand free and stepped forward, lifting one foot slightly. Again instead of connecting with the unforgiving wall he stepped smoothly through the illusion and onto a small spiral staircase.

Making his way up he soon stepped out into a large tower room, complete with four- poster bed, fireplace, and bathroom. Indeed a person could live quite comfortably up there if they had some means of getting food and drink.

Draco tiredly crossed the room and dropped onto the large couch, stretching out like a huge cat before his eyes strayed back to the book he'd dropped onto the low table set in front of the settee. He didn't bother to pick it up again. The passage that had shaken him so much was burned into the back of his mind;

"_The most beautiful of all bonds is that of soulmates, although sadly_

_few find their other half._

_Between vampires the simplest way to find_

_your soulmate is to have skin on skin contact; it could be a mere brush_

_of the hand or more as long as it's skin on skin._

_If your chosen is indeed your soulmate both shall receive a feeling_

_that has been described as pure ecstasy as well as a 'pink fog' enveloping _

_your senses. When soulmates first experience this, the 'fog' will block _

_everything else out, but over time, while the experience will be no less _

_enjoyable, the soulmates will still be aware of everything around them _

_and able to interact as normal. Due to this soulmates tend to touch _

_each other as much as possible, and can feel withdrawal if they go without _

_having physical contact with their other half for an extended length of time. _

_Only vampires can feel the full existent of the bond although it has been _

_known for a vampire and a human to be soulmates, but both parties can _

_only experience this if the vampire is sure that the human is their soulmate _

_and they exchange blood. _

_Even if the two parties do not know they are soulmates they will feel _

_inexplicably drawn to one another and will search each other out if they _

_have not seen each other for some time._

_The biggest drawback to this intense bond is if the two soulmates don't like_

_each other. Touching will cause excruciating pain as the bond will try to_

_force the two together simply because, while they may not know it or _

_accept it, one cannot live without the other." _

Draco closed his eyes tightly. While he didn't want to admit it, it _did_ explain a lot. Like whenever he got on the train to go back to Hogwarts for a new year, the first thing he did (after grabbing Crabbe and Goyle) was search out Potter. And that whenever he went into the Great Hall for breakfast, lunch or dinner, before he even sat down he'd look for Potter, and he'd usually meet Potter's eyes meaning Potter was searching for _him_ as well. Whenever he'd gone home for the holidays he'd found himself getting irritated for no reason and his thoughts strayed more and more to The-Boy-Who-Lived. The summer holiday was always the worst and by the end of it he'd be ready to rip someone's head off. Why had he never realised that the second he'd seen the black haired Gryffindor on the train all his anger would just drain away as if someone had pulled an invisible plug on it. Last summer had been the by far the most difficult and he'd practically sprinted down the train to find Potter. When he'd found the small boy he'd teased him about being a Prefect then left feeling insanely happy, although at the time he thought it was because he'd managed to piss the little 'Golden Boy' off again.

"So _stupid_!" He snarled to himself.

It had never occurred to him! Well how could it have? When they'd had had skin on skin contact in the past it was brief, brutal, and, as far as he could remember, it had only happened when involving Quidditch; whether grappling for the snitch or having a full out fight like last year. Plus weather Harry had been bitten or not he was a vampire now, before he'd been a human and Draco would have never ever thought let alone _wanted_ Harry to be his soulmate.

With a groan the slender blond grabbed a cushion and buried his face in the soft material.

The other books hadn't had anything on 'pink fog' but one had mentioned something on newly changed vampires attracting crowds of drooling humans even when they weren't feeding as their body is producing an obscene amount of pheromones, due to the simple face that their subconscious was trying to find their mate. He would have to ask Harry at some point if he'd received an embarrassing amount of people trying to get in his pants since he'd changed.

Another book had described how long it takes for soulmates to 'bond' as it were. Meaning, how long it would take for their souls to unknowingly be entwined so they wouldn't be able to lead separate lives away from each other. With two vampires it was roughly a year if they saw each other on a regular basis. With a vampire and a human it was a lot longer; six to seven years. But Harry was anything _but_ normal. The book had said that the 'bonding' was complete when, if the soulmates were separated for two weeks or longer, they would begin to get irritable for no reason, suffer - in increasing length - bouts of depression and would find their thoughts dwelling more and more on their soulmate.

Draco had started to feel like that _four months_ after he'd first met Harry, when he'd gone home for the Christmas holiday in their first year.

Wonderful.

Before his train of thought could carry on in its depressing downward spiral, Draco felt what could mildly be described as an electric shock down his spine. In fact it shocked him so much that he'd ripped the cushion he was fond of clean in two.

He leapt nimbly to his feet swearing fit to make a sailor blush and brushing off feathers while he tried to figure out what the _fuck_ had just happened. His mental blocks were still up so nothing could get through them. At least nothing _should_.

"Bugger!" He snapped then quickly snatched up the book.

After quickly scanning a few pages he found what he was looking for and let out a defeated groan;

"_Even if one is asleep, mentally blocking everything out or even (with the more powerful cases) in a coma, a soulmate will be able to sense if there is any drastic changes with their soulmate, whether emotionally, physically, mentally or magically. Please note that if neither are aware of the bond the most dominate of the two will become aware first. If just one knows then only they will feel anything through the bond from their mate regarding their wellbeing." _

"Great, just bloody great. Next time Harry, you're going to be the one to deal with this on your lonesome."

The youngest Malfoy began to reach out with his senses when it suddenly occurred to him that he was calling Harry by his first name, even worse he'd begun to think of Harry by his first name.

"I'm so screwed," he practically sobbed as his mind reached Ha-_Potter's_ rooms.

His silver eyes widened.

"That bastard!"

And he was sprinting down the stairs.

It appeared that Harry Potter was awake.

It also appeared that Harry Potter was no longer there.

The ground was cold, hard and unforgiving.

His palms had been scraped raw at the harsh landing but he instantly scrambled back to his feet.

A sharp pain on the inside of his elbow made him glance down and he was shocked to find a long needle embedded in his pale flesh. It had obliviously been attached to something because there was a short tube running from it that had been cut off roughly two feet from his arm. Blood leaked from the end, the thick smell reaching his nose making his head spin in wanton desire.

No, he had to focus.

He had no idea why there was a needle in his arm, or why he'd woken up in a strange room. All that mattered was Lily.

Snarling, he ripped the annoyance out and threw it to the ground before glaring up at the unfamiliar house that he knew held the little girl that had called out to him.

Like a thief he slipped through the gate and up the garden path on silent bare feet.

He didn't let it bother him that Lily was the only person he could remember. Nor did he let it bother him that he couldn't remember a thing from before he'd woken up. And he didn't let it bother him that the only reason he knew his name was because Lily had called it, only his first one at that.

The front door was expectedly locked but he found that a little push with his mind had it swinging open.

He barely spared a glance at the hall around him and headed straight for the stairs.

Along a landing, turn left, straight on, right and there … a simple beech door.

Holding his breath, he turned the handle and pushed it open, then let out a silent sigh of relief when the door didn't creak.

A comfortably large room housing three bunk beds met his eyes. He headed with un-nerving certainty towards the one nearest the window and sat down on the edge of the lower one.

The child was still asleep but curled in a tiny, whimpering ball. Two small hands were curled around a long leather cord around her neck, which held a beautiful jet-black feather.

Without a flicker of hesitantly he reached out one graceful hand and gently shook the girls shoulder.

"Lily, it's time for you to wake up now."

With a start and a muffled gasp two chestnut brown eyes shot open. She took in the dark boy sitting with the lazy ease of a cat on the edge of her bunk before she threw herself forward into his waiting arms and burst into muffled tears, pressing her face into his stomach.

"You're here," she hiccupped through the sobs, "you're really here."

He didn't answer, just quietly sat there, running a soothing hand up and down her back as she let out all her frustration.

He kept his ears pricked for any movement from one of the other beds or on the landing outside, ready to dive behind the long curtain just to the left of the bed in a moments notice.

Soon the sobs died down and he was left holding an emotionally drained child.

"What did you dream about?"

She tensed in his arms.

Carefully he slid one hand under her chin and tilted her head up until she was staring into his intense eyes.

"Lily, a burden is lighter if two pairs of shoulders carry it."

The girl looked down, hands fiddling with the hem of her long white nightdress.

"I …I dreamt about the night mummy and daddy went to heaven."

It was his turn to tense. It seemed so familiar it almost hurt. Memories pounded on the paper-thin barrier in his mind, screaming to be let out.

"We were having dinner in the kitchen," she continued. "Mummy was just putting the potatoes on the table when there was a knock on the door. Daddy went to see while mummy gave me the crispy ones 'cos I really like them. There was shouting from the hall and daddy yelled something to mummy. Mummy looked like she did sometimes when she comes back from work: all pale and jumpy. She grabbed me so fast I couldn't even have one of my potatoes and hid me in the pantry, I could still see through the gap in the door. She pointed her wand at where she'd put me and said a spell, I don't know what it was but she smiled, but …she started to cry at the same time. Daddy ran through and then these men in cloaks and white masks, then mummy and daddy started fighting them. Loads of the men fell over and didn't get up again because mummy and daddy won prizes for dell..dua..duelling! Then one man who'd just walked in pointed his wand at mummy's back and said something, there was this flash of green light and she fell."

Lily stared up at her pale skinned rescuer, eyes wide with loss and helplessness.

"She …she didn't move and then daddy was screaming mummy's name over and over, pushing the strange men out of the way to reach her, but just as he got there the man who stopped mummy shot the green light at him too and he fell next to mummy. Then the men all laughed and walked out. The people from next door found us the next morning and then I was sent here a week later after they'd buried mummy and daddy."

He stared straight ahead, images and noise suddenly filling his head. A woman screaming "not Harry, please not Harry! Have mercy! Take me! Take me instead!" Cold laughter followed by a flash of green light and a terrible thud.

He realised that his hands had curled into tight fists on Lily's back: tight enough for his nails to break the skin on his palms. With an effort he unclenched them.

"I can't bring your parents back Lily and I'm so sorry for that, but I can look after you so your parents watching you from heaven will be happy. I'm already positive that they're very proud of how brave you've been."

"Really?"

Harry sent his adoptive daughter a tender smile.

"Really."

She smiled back and snuggled into his lap, closing her eyes peacefully, nightmares now put to rest.

"That makes me happy too Harry."

He stayed with her for several more hours, just watching her sleep before carefully manovering her back onto the bed and tucking the blanket around her small body.

As quietly as he'd slipped in he slid back out of the house again, leaving no sign that he'd ever been there at all except for a quietly sleeping Lily.

He paused, uncertain on the road outside.

Where should he go now?

He'd remembered a few things, but most of them from when he was a baby so they were useless.

He supposed he'd better head back to the room he'd woken up in. He hadn't felt any hostility when he was there and he seemed to have been treated alright, except for the strange needle in his arm but he could puzzle over that later.

He could picture the room if he closed his eyes; a big four-postered bed made of oak, a large fireplace with a couple of comfortable armchairs beside it along with a short study table that had been covered with open books and pieces of parchment. There had been a writing desk over by the wide window and a wardrobe and a chest of draws next to a door that he felt would lead to a bathroom. He could almost feel the rich strands of the finely crafted rug at the end of the bed under his bare feet.

Suddenly he frowned.

He _could_ feel the strands of the rug between his toes.

Green eyes snapped open.

There was the bed, the armchairs and fireplace, the study table and writing desk, the wardrobe and chest of drawers and the window, showing the dawn just starting to break outside.

_Oh_, was all he could think of.

There was a pounding of feet outside of the room and the door that didn't lead to the bathroom opened so hard it was almost ripped off its hinges.

A tall, pale boy stood gasping in the doorway, his burning grey eyes swirling with silver nailing him to the spot.

_Damn, he's beautiful_, was all Harry's mind could supply, and indeed the boy was absolutely stunning. He also looked absolutely pissed.

"And where," the blond Adonis snarled, stalking towards him, "the _hell_ have you been?"

Startled, Harry found the will power to move his feet and quickly backed away, but the taller boy was faster and closed in on him.

Cold stone hit Harry's back and he realised he'd backed himself into a corner with no chance of escape as the window, both doors and even the fireplace was behind the furious blond boy.

"Answer me!" The boy snapped.

The room swam and was overlapped by a much smaller and grimmer room. There was a tiny filthy bed under a small boarded up window. A desk that looked as though it would fall apart any second and an old battered wardrobe next to a door that had a small cat flap cut into the bottom of it.

He was still backed into a corner and a different blond was advancing on him a cruel smirk spread across his face. He was shorter than the other blond with a heavier build and was much uglier.

"Well?" He sniggered as he stopped before the slighter teenager. "Aren't you going to answer me? Come on, all you have to do is beg me and I'll go easier on you tonight."

_Not again. Can't take it anymore. Hurts. Hurts so much. Dirty. Filthy. Never be clean again. Rotting. I'm rotting inside. Won't beg. Never beg. Stop. Please someone. Stop stop stop. Won't beg, never beg won'tbegneverbegwon'tbegneverbegnevernevernevernever._

"Never!"

The room snapped back into focus. He was still in the grand room with the huge bed and the beautiful blond kneeling in front of him.

Kneeling?

While he had been lost in his memory he must've slid down to wall, and now the blond was kneeling in front of him with a worried expression etched on his face.

"Potter? Harry?"

With that softly spoken word the memories completely broke through the thin barrier in his mind and filled Harry Potter. The pain that the slight boy hadn't even realised was gone came back with a vengeance, filling his chest like a deep empty void full of repressed screams.

Desperately he curled in on himself. If he even let one of those screams loose he'd never stop. Never mind it felt as though his ribs were cracking under the pressure.

"Hey Potter, you okay?"

A broken sob forced its way up out of the curled figure. He could name the blond who was apparently so worried about him and it almost broke him to know that one of his worst enemies was being nicer than his relatives had ever been. It was never supposed to have been like this. Not like this.

Another sob broke free.

He didn't want this. He'd never wanted any of this.

The rape and the change had been the last straw.

Harry Potter was broken.

A gentle hand on his clothed shoulder ripped down the last of the barriers and he started crying in earnest.

He finally let loose all the tears he'd kept buried deep inside him, not aware that it looked as though he were crying blood.

He sobbed for his dead parents, for Cedric, for an ostracised Lupin, dear Sirius who never had a chance to live before he died, for Neville who's greatest gift he received from his parents was a pile of empty sweet wrappers, for Ron and Hermione who had suffered so much simply for being friends with him and now he had to so cruelly cut them out of his life, for Lily who had seen her parents murdered before she even understood death, but mostly he cried for himself; his lost childhood, the prejudice and betrayal he had to endure, for never being able to truly trust anyone, for always having to look over his shoulder, for everyone always expecting him to do something about the tragedies while they just stood back and watched him suffer because of it, and finally for his lost innocence that was taken so brutally from him.

Draco watched in mounting concern at the sobbing younger boy in front of him.

When he felt Harry return he'd been just down the hall in his own room. In seconds he'd been tearing through the bark haired boys living room and slamming open the bedroom door.

He'd been so angry.

How _dare_ the brat just come and go as he pleased. He was still untrained! If he had another blast of power as he'd done down by the lake in a crowded place like Diagon Alley the consequences would be unthinkable.

Imagine his surprise when Harry didn't lash back at him with his sharp tongue as usual, but back away from him with actual fear on his face. Although Draco wasn't one hundred percent sure that Harry was actually seeing him. His eyes had looked so blank. Before they'd been colder and more deadly than the North Pole, now they were just empty.

When the fragile boy had collapsed the Malfoy heir was kneeling in front of him before he'd even realised. He mentally blamed it on the bond of his soul wanting to protect its mate as he'd tentatively asked the Gryffindor if he was alright. Instead of replying the boy stared shaking, a sob breaking free every now and again.

Hesitantly Draco had placed his hand on the other boys shoulder, and the Gryffindor had completely broken down, scattering red droplets on the floor and across his legs.

Draco was completely at a loss on what to do.

He'd seen some of the humans at school crying but they were beneath him so he'd just looked away and when his mother had cried he'd held her close and hugged her until she finished. Was he supposed to do that here? Harry was not only a vampire but his soulmate, and like it or not he couldn't deny it anymore. But he had also been his enemy for the past five years. They'd hurt and humiliated each other countless times. It was not something he could just brush under the rug and pretend never happened.

Two sections of Draco were now at war inside him; one was the raw part of his being, his magic and his soul that longed for its other half. They kept saying to him over and over that five years was nothing to a vampire, who lived for thousands, and that not only was his mate beautiful, but intelligent, powerful and noble. The other side was his mind and his heart. His mind told him that at the end of the day he was Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin Prince and his 'soulmate' was Harry Potter, the Golden Gryffindor. They were too different and had been (apparently) fighting on opposite sides of a brutal and bloody war. There was not only house prejudice between them; there were dead bodies as well. His heart was screaming at him that to follow this path would end in tragedy. Harry was sentenced to death the moment Voldemort arose and Draco's own housemates would kill him if they found out he wasn't really on their side. And Harry …Harry himself would hate Draco if he found out about them, and Draco didn't think he could take that rejection from his other half.

Before he gave the saner part of himself time to think he reached out with his arms and roughly pulled Harry into his lap.

He would deal with the consequences tomorrow, for now he just wanted Harry to stop sobbing so brokenly, as if his very soul were dying.

The smaller boy seemed so far gone that he either didn't notice or care that it was one of the people he hated most holding him so tenderly. He was probably too far-gone to remember that he'd been refusing point blank to let anyone touch him either.

A slight smile found its way onto the blond's full lips.

For the first time in his life he felt he was truly being honest with himself.

The next day had been awkward for the both of them.

Draco had held Harry until the smaller boy had fallen asleep from sheer exhaustion then put him to bed.

Snape had been waiting for the Gryffindor when he woke up and gave him a thourally embarrassing check over that left Snape furious as the boy wouldn't let him touch him and Harry feeling like he was going to implode from embarrassment.

He'd been announced fit and well so the two boys had immediately started the long delayed training. For the entire day they'd spoken and looked at each other only when they had to and they'd kept thing strictly professional; as teacher and pupil. There were no arguments and no small talk.

Even with the awkwardness Harry had felt strangely alive. Still no-where back to normal but not the gaping emptiness that had been filling him of late. It appeared that the crying session had pulled him out of it if only for a little while. He was still jumpy about people touching him but he found himself admiring the blueness of the sky and the warmth of the sun. He intended to bask in his newfound freedom because tomorrow it may be snatched away from him again.

But the next day came and went without incident and he found himself feeling confident enough to make a minor jest over Draco's obsessive care of his hair to Narcissa that evening when they were all relaxing over a glass of fresh blood in the living room. Draco had immediately retaliated and soon they found themselves tossing insults back and forth but, unusually, there was no malice in the argument.

The day after was the same with Draco and Harry training all day, bantering with each other every chance they got, so while they were by no means being nice to each other they were respecting each other. If Harry didn't understand something Draco would tease him about it before settling down to explain it again and Harry was fascinated to learn that what he'd learned about from his Defence Against the Dark Arts book was mostly wrong.

The forth day of their training was a perfect summer day. All morning Draco had been teaching Harry over the fine art of mind control. After a break and their version of lunch (a glass of deer blood) the Malfoy heir finally got on to the part of the training that Harry had been looking forward to the most.

"Alright Potter," the blond announced sitting comfortably on the grass, "you've got to grips with mind control so now we'll move onto a more physical aspect of your training."

"Physical?"

Harry glanced up. He'd been crouching down with one arm wrapped around his knees to steady himself, his other arm stretched out in front of him. His sharp eyes had caught a small weasel running through the grass earlier and he had latched onto its mind, gently coxing it over to him. After assuring it had nothing to fear from him the playful creature had relaxed and was now chasing Harry's finger in a game of tag on the grass in front of the dark boy. Griffin was sitting on Harry's shoulder cleaning his feathers having found out his withering glare had no effect on the small animal.

"Yeah. Today Potter, I'll be starting to teach you how to fly with your wings."

Harry immediately looked up and Draco shot him a superior smirk.

"Knew that'd catch your interest."

"Oh lay off," Harry muttered staring back down at the weasel, but secretly he was itching to start.

The blond let out a very un-Malfoyish snort.

"Fine. Spoil my fun then. Right wings out Potter."

There was a pause.

"I assume you do know how to release your wings?"

With a soft sigh Harry released the weasel and watched it dart away through the grass before rising to his feet. Griffin lifted off his shoulder to perch on the head of a statue twenty feet away.

"No, I know how, it'll ruin my shirt though."

"That's what house elves are for Potter."

The blond also stood. He was wearing a sleeveless black turtleneck and a pair of comfortable jeans with a pair of fashionable black flip-flops. Harry meanwhile was wearing a pair of knee length black shorts and a blood red tank top with black trainers. He was, as usual, wearing the silver bracelet Lily had given him around his wrist and his dragon necklaces.

"Well then, let's start."

With a suddenly tearing sound a pair of pitch-black wings burst from both boys back, scattering midnight feathers on the light breeze to swirl around them in a strange dance.

"Now the first thing you have to do Potter is build up the strength in your wings. You've only just received them so the muscles won't have been used. Like a baby needs to build up its muscles in its legs you need to strengthen your wings. I'm afraid you won't be flying on them for some time yet."

Harry was disappointed but not surprised. It would be foolish to believe that he could expect them to immediately lift his whole body weight.

"We'll begin with some simple exercises," Draco continued.

Two hours later Lucius and Narcissa tore out of the house to find a sweaty Harry determinedly beating his wings up and down, then - on Draco's command – stretching his wings out to the sides as far as they would go and holding them there for thirty seconds.

"Draco! Harry!" Lucius gasped, sliding to a halt beside them.

"Quickly! You must get inside! But go through the side entrance and stay out of sight of the windows!" Narcissa panted, fear etched on her sweet face.

"Severus is buying us some time, you must hurry!" Lucius finished.

The two boys stared at the flustered adults in bewilderment.

"Mother? What's going on? Why is uncle Sev 'buying us some time'?"

The two older Malfoys shared a worried glance before facing the blond and black haired boys again.

"Voldemort has just arrived."

Here ends the chapter.

1. Japanese for bright - akarui, dark - kurai. Woo! This'll be important later!


	5. Praying for a Lie

A/N: I am an awful, awful person. Yes, I know it has been a long time and I thank you all for waiting with only a few creative threats. I'm afraid over the last few months my depression got the better of me as my life has quickly gone downhill. I have absolutely no memory of Christmas or my 20th birthday and I didn't drink at either! And to top it all off I've been fired from my job, and now have absolutely no money. Isn't life grand? I don't want these to be excuses but they sure do take up an exhausting amount of time.

You guys have been fantastic and every review means so much to me. Talking of reviews though, several of you have mentioned something that I am desperately in need of so, without further ado…**WANTED: ONE BETA. ESSENTIAL THEY HAVE A STRONG GRASP OF SPELLING, GRAMMAR AND PUNTUATION. PLEASE E-MAIL ME IF INTERESTED.** Well, here you go. Please review once you've finished, your opinions are very important to me.

Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah we all know I don't own HP 'cos if I did Harry and Draco would be screwing like bunnies by now. I know I forgot to put it in the last chapter but as some of you realised one of the dream sequences was from X/1999 an absolutely beautiful animation. It will be important though in later chapters.

Chapter Five – Praying for a Lie

Harry stared.

Draco stared.

Griffin blinked.

"I beg your pardon?" Draco asked with a fixed grin on his face.

Narcissa sent him a mournful look.

"Voldemort is in the study with Severus keeping him occupied. He's giving us a chance to get you both inside, so we mustn't hesitate!"

Without further ado Lucius grabbed Draco and proceeded to drag the progressively whitening boy over the grass. Narcissa edged closer to Harry until she was on the fringe of invading his personal space.

"Harry?"

"I'm coming," he announced, coming out of whatever daze he had been in. He turned and walked woodenly towards the manor, withdrawing his wings as he went as Draco had done. Narcissa frowned in worry before following, Griffin settling on her shoulder as she glided quickly across the lawn.

They crept into the manor like thieves and sneaked along the corridor, heading for the stairs. The tiniest noise made them all jump and every flickering shadow; cast by the candles, made them tense until they were all coiled tighter than a spring. Silently, they made their way up the stairs and through a series of small, winding corridors before Lucius opened a simple door on his left and ushered everyone inside. Only when the door was closed did they let out the breath none of them had realised they were holding.

Harry looked around him. They were in a simple but comfortable room with large squashy armchairs around the fireplace, a bed in the corner and a door that presumably led off to a bathroom. There was however, no window.

"This is one of the most warded rooms in the manor, Harry," Lucius said in as reassuring a manner as he could manage, which wasn't very as his eyes were darting all over the place and his muscles were wound so tightly he was trembling faintly.

"But…" Harry suggested and Lucius gave him an almost grateful look.

"But, Voldemort is a very skilled Legimetius and even in the short amount of time it's taken us to get up here he would have sensed your power."

"My power?" Harry was baffled as he glanced at each of the three Malfoy's faces in turn. "I don't get what my power has to do with this. I have been trained in Occlumancy and am quite good at it now even though Snape has no idea."

"Snape?" Draco muttered and Harry sent him an annoyed glare.

"I'll tell you later, but what I mean is that even before I learnt Occlumancy Voldemort couldn't sense me if I was hiding in the corridor outside the room he was in."

Draco let out a snort and slumped down into one of the chairs, his lack of grace betraying his nerves. Lucius sent him a fond look before facing Harry again, noting that the boy was rapidly putting the mental shields back up and distancing himself emotionally from everything again. He fought back a sigh; so much for the small step forward they'd managed to make him take. Now the boy had just taken four huge leaps back.

"Since your change and that you have just come into your magical maturity your powers would have grown. For a normal witch or wizard their powers grow by about thirty percent, but Narcissa, Severus and I have estimated that yours have grown by about seventy percent. Needless to say you burnt as brightly as a phoenix to Voldemort the second he arrived here."

There was a heavy silence where no one could meet each other's eyes.

"So why," Harry asked in an emotionless voice, his head hanging limply, facing the ground, dark hair obscuring his eyes, "why did you bring me to this room? Is it just to hold me until you hand me over to him?"

In an instant Draco was in front of him silver eyes blazing.

"Take that back Potter! Take that back right now!"

Empty green eyes raised to meet his own, and he barely held back a shudder.

"Why should I? For five years I've been expecting you and your family to stab me in the back at the first chance. Now I'm living in your manor, miles away from any help and I only have your parents' words to go on that you're not really on Voldemort's side."

"Our word should be enough! When father promised that we weren't on Voldemort's side you and he essentially made a Wizards Vow. It's impossible to make a Wizards Vow if you lie!"

Draco reached forward, as if he could shake some sense into the smaller boy, but then Harry flinched and a sliver of terror flashed across his empty eyes. Draco instantly pulled back and ran his hands through his loose hair in frustration.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to take our word for now, Harry." Narcissa finally spoke up from where she'd been leaning against the wall with Griffin still on her shoulder. "We brought you here because no-one can eavesdrop through the wards and we need to discuss how we can introduce you to Voldermort without him knowing it's you."

Harry's head shot up but Narcissa raised her hand halting the question he'd been about to ask.

"No Harry, I'm sorry but there is no other way. Voldemort already knows you're in the manor so if we don't introduce you …well, let's just say I feel like living to see tomorrow."

Harry lowered his head again.

"Well, any ideas?" Lucius asked the room.

Silence greeted him.

"Come on, we don't have much time here. Sev can only distract his Ugliness for so long and Narcissa and I still need to take our aging potions. Thank Merlin Sev had his with him." The Lord of the manor announced with a roll of his eyes, trying to make light of the situation.

There was a shuffling and four sets of eyes; three silver and one emerald, landed on who had made the noise.

"You got something to say birdie?" Draco scoffed then sneered when Griffin sent him a baleful glare.

The impressive raven jumped from Narcissa's shoulder and glided across the room to land on the back of one of the armchairs.

\Yes, actually brat, so pay attention.\

Draco let out a shockingly feline growl and prowled towards the bird until his father reached out a hand and lightly cuffed him over the back of the head.

"Enough kitty, we don't have time for this."

Draco gave a childish pout over the nickname and went back over to standing as near to Harry as he could without making it look like he wanted to.

\You could use a very simple glamour, so simple Moldyshorts wouldn't pick up on it, and even if he did he would think Harry was using it to hide an unsightly spot or something.\

"And what would we use that glamour on?" Narcissa asked.

\Harry's hair, just change it to a similar blond to the rest of you.\

Narcissa's looked over to Harry and she began running her eyes over him with a calculating air. Lucius however didn't look so convinced.

"What's the point of changing Harry's hair colour, Voldermort has Harry's face engraved into the back of his mind! He'll recognise him!"

"I don't think so, love." Narcissa interrupted her husband mid-rant.

Lucius turned to stare at his wife in puzzlement and Harry found himself vaguely amused by the fact that this was the most expression's he'd ever seen the older Malfoy make.

Narcissa sighed before explaining slowly so her husband could understand.

"Harry's changed a lot since Voldemort last saw him, he was smaller, skinnier, had glasses, messy hair, darker skin. Really, dear, the list goes on and on. If you compare what Harry used to look like and what Harry now looks like you'd think they were two different people besides the eyes and hair colour."

Lucius started to speak but Narcissa overtook him.

"And, if you look at him now his facial structure is similar to that of a Malfoy. If we change his hair colour and hide the scar we could pull him off as a distant cousin. Although, I'm not sure what we could do about his eyes, they are very memorable."

"Oh, that's simple," grumbled Draco, "he just has to change his eyes to fully turned, ignoring the small fact that he's only done that when he's feeding so far."

Harry glanced over at the Slytherin with a faint frown. Draco saw and with an exaggerated sigh he explained as quickly as possible.

"You need to be able to turn your eyes silver without elongating your teeth or engaging any of your other vampire traits."

"And how am I supposed to do that?"

Annoyed Draco crossed his arms.

"Well, it's not usually called for in life and death situations, so excuse me for not teaching you immediately!"

Harry stared at him blankly.

Draco stared stubbornly back.

Harry continued staring.

Draco caved, and sagged in minor defeat, silently reminding himself to get back at the Gryffindor later.

"Fine, I'll give you the crash course."

Griffin gave the bird equivalent to a snort from his chair, but Draco, for once, ignored him.

"You don't have to be very powerful magically to do this, but it does require a lot of mental concentration. You need to be able to focus on one individual part of your body, in this case your eyes, and force them to change. For them to stay changed you will need to continuously think of them as silver or they'll revert back to their normal green. When you've practiced this enough it will become automatic for you to unconsciously focus a small part of your mind on keeping whatever change you have on you at the time permanent, while doing everything else normally, for example, having a complex conversation."

"Hang on," Harry interrupted, stepping forward. "You mean if Voldemort starts asking questions I won't be able to answer them?"

The youngest blond looked uncomfortable.

"You will, but only very simply. It all depends on how well you can keep your concentration on your eyes while talking. You never know, you may be a natural Potter."

Harry wanted to scream. Whichever way he looked he was driven into a corner by Voldemorts laughing face. He couldn't win.

"Fine," he sighed, feeling a headache start to pound at his temples, "can you walk me through it?"

For once the Slytherin didn't make any rude comments about Harry's apparent lack of intelligence. The pressure of the situation was likely getting to him as well. He simply nodded and began to explain in manageable steps what to do, while Narcissa summoned a house elf to fetch some more suitable clothes for the boys and Lucius went into a deep talk with Griffin.

Ten minutes later four people walked sedately towards a grand set of doors.

They were all beautiful, and all similar yet utterly unique.

All had long silver blond hair and shimmering silver eyes.

All were slim and moved with a sensuous grace.

All were impeccably dressed in fine clothes.

And all were presenting a calm, aristocratic face while on the inside they were all wondering if this would be their last few moments of life.

The only female in the group, looking to be in her mid-thirties like the man next to her, paused in front of the doors. She stared for a few moments at the tall man beside her, before sending him a tight yet loving smile. Then she turned and glanced at the two sixteen year old boys behind her. The taller of the two had his shoulder length hair pulled back in a ponytail, his sharp eyes were staring into the distance, and the fingers on his right hand were playing with a loose thread at the edge of the tunic-like pale grey top he was wearing, betraying his nerves.

The woman then turned her eyes on the final member of their party.

Even though he looked similar to them, he definitely pulled off the exotic look, which was a very good thing. He still looked like the Harry they had come to know over the last few days except his long hair was now a pale blond and his eyes were a glowing silver. He had a black bandanna around his forehead, which was the only thing Lucius and Griffin had been able to come up with to cover his scar, as magic would not hide it. To make the bandanna appear more in place he was wearing an oriental style top with a high neck and long sleeves that wrapped around his lithe body. It like the bandanna was black, but stitched into the silky fabric was several deep red Asian dragons.

"Okay, here we go. Good luck everyone," Narcissa whispered as Lucius reached forward to open the doors. They opened into a grand yet warm room, with wall panels of forest green and rich mahogany. Books lined the walls and before the single large window, dominating the room, was an opulent ancient desk decorated with inlaid walnut patterns. And sitting in the chair behind the grand writing table.

"Ah, I was beginning to think you'd got lost in your own manor, Malfoy."

He'd changed since Harry had last seen him. Before he'd been barely human, hideous to look at, whereas now he looked more like he used to, before all the dark magic he'd used has ravaged his body. The man who called himself Voldemort now had a full head of black hair, a long, straight nose, and while his eyes were still red and there was something very sharp and snakish about his features, he could easily be considered handsome. That was what unsettled Harry the most. Voldemort no longer looked as dark and rotting as his soul. Now he looked relatively normal, healthy and strong. Oh dear.

"Forgive me, my Lord," asked Lucius, bowing slightly. "We had to find Draco and his cousin."

Burning red eyes fixed on Harry. A jolt of pain from his scar almost made the Gryffindor lose concentration.

_Eyes silver. Eyes silver. Eyes silver. Why is he looking at me like that? Eyes silver._

"And what is your name?"

They'd discussed this beforehand. Harry knew exactly what name to give, he knew where he was supposed to live, he knew who his parents were supposed to be, and yet looking into those red eyes seemed to make it all pointless. A darkness rose in his mind, whispering to just tell the monster in front of him truthfully who he was and let those red eyes burn him away to nothing, so there would be no past he wished to forget, no present he'd wished to vanish from, and above all no future of agonising possibilities.

He opened his mouth.

"This is my cousin Solo Malfoy, my Lord. He has recently come to stay with us from Japan."

The arrogant blond, who had so many times over the years wished Harry's downfall, had unwittingly saved his life.

Harry let his head drop into what could be interpreted as a bow, but was actually defeat.

"Indeed. I am Solo Malfoy, Lord. It is an honour to finally meet you."

Voldemort stood and walked around the desk, his long black robes whispering on the carpet. He came closer and closer to the fake Malfoy, not stopping until his chest was almost touching Harry's face. The now silver-haired boy started trembling in an effort to get his body to keep still, but his feet were inching backwards all on their own. The dark shadow rose again in the battered boys mind, screaming at him to do _something_. Weather run or fight it didn't care.

All the screaming in Harry's head vanished when Voldemorts hand shot out and grabbed his face, not painfully, but firmly enough to stop him backing away anymore. The silence was almost as bad as the noise had been, but he could still sense something there, lurking at the back of his conscience, looking out through his eyes. Now there was just the steady burn of his scar, the repeated mantra to keep his eyes the same colour, and a faint prayer to whatever God or Goddess that might be listening for his scar to not start bleeding.

"No, no," Voldemort purred, leaning in yet further, as the three Malfoy's around them simply stood silently, helpless to do anything. "It is an honour to meet such a delicate, beautiful being such as yourself."

Harry found himself staring at the monsters new face, as it glided nearer and nearer to his own.

_Eyes silver. Eyes silver…Eyes silver. Eyes …Silver ……Eyes ………Silver……………_

Just as he felt dry lips brush his own the door behind them opened loudly, causing Voldemort's grip to loosen, giving him the chance to jump away to hide behind the nearest person.

"Excuse me my Lord, dinner is ready in the dining room," Snape's voice grated out. He was back to looking like the grumpy professor from school.

The room remained frozen for a moment longer before Voldemort tossed back his head and laughed before striding out of the door.

Snape sent the remaining occupants in the room a confused stare, making his face appear much younger, before heading after the dark wizard. Narcissa and Lucius wordlessly followed, unable to comprehend what had just happened.

The smaller boy relaxed his concentration and felt a faint tingling in his eyes as they reverted back to their normal colour. He then closed them tightly, trying to purge the memories of what had just happened from his mind. What that bastard had done was terrible, but Harry had found himself most affected by the fact that Voldemort had done it in front of the Malfoy's, in front of _Draco_ Malfoy to be exact. And all he'd done was tremble, and try to back away. He'd been weak in front of a person he _had_ to be strong around. He couldn't afford to be weak when Draco was there. Before, it had simply been because the blond would have taken advantage of his weakened state to crush him. But now…now Harry wasn't so sure. In his agitation he tightened his grip on the material in his hands.

"Harry?"

The soft voice rumbled through the back he had his ear against. It was a safe voice, and Harry found himself wishing the person would call him again.

Suddenly he was shaken. Not roughly, but neither gently.

Looking up Harry found himself staring into intense steel grey eyes that glowed silver where the light caught them.

"Potter, you there?"

The smaller boy leapt away.

"Fuck Potter! What the hell is your problem?"

With anger etched into Draco's face he stormed from the room leaving Harry alone. It couldn't have been Draco who had called his name so …warmly. There was no way. They were _enemies._

Shaking his for-the-moment blond head, the Gryffindor followed the rapidly vanishing Draco, slowly changing his eyes back to silver as he walked.

Deep inside himself he knew he was slightly, only very slightly, thankful to the Slytherin, who had taken his frayed thoughts off the monster waiting for him in the dining room.

Draco fidgeted.

He wasn't a natural fidget so he was becoming quite tired. But this was all part of 'The Plan.' Mother and Father knew why Moldyshorts was there, and it had to do with him doing something at Hogwarts.

Sighing under his breath he picked up his fork and began to tap it on the table while he let his gaze drift around the large room, unable – from an outsider's point of view – to be able to concentrate on anything for a long length of time.

In actuality his focus had never left Voldemort or what he was doing, which was mainly staring at Harry, and sending him the odd glare that was growing darker and darker each time.

_Good, I'm starting to piss him off. Now for phase two._

"Malfoy, can you not keep your son under control?"

Lucius raised his head from where he had been staring at his main course of duck, which looked like a work of art; two fair sized cuts of breast, balanced delicately on top of a potato rosti with red wine sauce drizzled in a growing spiral over the top and out onto the plate. (1)

"I'm afraid Draco has always been like that my lord. If he doesn't fidget then he gets irritable."

Draco took this as his queue.

"Yeah! I mean when we where at school there was an older classman who was sleeping with one of the third years. I mean that's sick! Anyway, I annoyed him one day so he gave me a detention for fidgeting, so I went and told Dumbeldore about his 'sleeping arrangements' and the boy was expelled!"

He looked around with triumph that changed to startlement, one hand flying to his mouth in shock.

"Oh crap! I wasn't supposed to tell anyone about that! Dumbeldore even made me sign a confidentiality contract so I didn't jeopardise the third year's future!"

Narcissa tittered in an alarmingly blond way.

"Draco, you really are the worst at keeping secrets aren't you!"

The two of them laughed.

"I see," Voldemort mused, "so you lack subtlety, you draw attention to yourself by fidgeting, and you think only of instant petty revenge, rather than looking at the bigger picture and manipulating it to your advantage. Truly you have inherited from your mother rather than your father."

The youngest Malfoy flushed and stared down at his plate.

"I'm sorry my lord. Father does try his best to train me, but I am rather slow at picking it up so far."

Voldemort's red eyes pinned him to his seat, and he could feel the faint wisps of something brushing the edge of his mind. Quickly he though of his father's disappointed face as he failed to master even basic dark magic. Of him constantly being clumsy: tripping over air and dropping books. Of him blabbing to his friends whatever dirty secret he'd managed to get his hands on. Of course, none of this was true, but he had to fool a very sharp mind into believing it was. His life was on the line, because if Voldemort found out that he was lying, even being a vampire wouldn't save him from the Avadra Kardava.

Then the presence was gone and the dark wizard was settling back with a sneer.

"It would appear that I've wasted my time coming here today."

Red eyes turned back to Harry, who had been silent throughout the entire meal.

"Well, maybe not all of it."

Draco bit his tongue in the effort not to scream, "_hands off! He's mine!_" Although once the moment had passed, he sat back and wondered where the thought had come from. Sure, they were soul mates, but there was nothing he could do about that and he by no means _loved_ Potter. He didn't even like the spoiled brat! Did he?

He glanced across the table and found himself looking at a small, delicate boy with empty eyes, looking as if he wished nothing more than to disappear. There was no arrogance, no spoilt brat, and, Draco realised, there probably never had been.

Shame filled him to the point where the food in front of him made him nausea.

The Dark Lord stood suddenly. He had finished and that meant everyone else was finished too.

"Lucius, I wish to speak with you and Severus _alone_. Your study will suffice."

He swept from the room leaving the two men to scramble after him.

"Listen in," was all Lucius managed to hiss out before the doors shut behind him.

Green flooded back into Harry's eyes as he released his concentration with a sigh.

"What did he mean 'listen in'? Surely Voldemort will be expecting someone to do that?" He asked as he pushed his half full plate away and a house elf whisked it off the table.

Narcissa sent him a mischievous wink.

"Yes, he will be expecting someone to try and eavesdrop with _magic_. But you know, muggles really do have a lot to teach us."

Leaving it at that, she rose and walked from the room; her long dress swishing lightly on the floor.

Puzzled Harry turned to Draco who had half risen from his chair.

"What?"

Draco gave a very familiar smirk.

"Follow me and you'll find out."

Harry did so.

After a few minutes of going down grand hallways and along smaller corridors Draco lead Harry into a room.

Harry looked around, wondering what he should be looking for.

There was a table covered in a dustsheet and some old painting of scenery stacked against the wall.

"I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be finding out," he muttered, annoyed.

"Oh, this isn't it," Draco announced in an off-hand sort of way. He strode over to the wall and pulled on a torch bracket. The entire far wall slid up, revealing a smaller room filled with muggle technology.

"You've got CCTV?" Gasped the Gryffindor.

Narcissa swung around in the chair she was sitting in, a pair of headphones over her expensive hairstyle.

"Yes, we've got hidden cameras in almost every major room in the house, and bugs as well."

Harry sat down feeling rather numb, and blindly took the pair of headphones Draco gave him.

"Harry," Narcissa called, "I really think you need to listen to this."

Snapping out of his daze he pulled the headphones on and focused on the flickering screen in front of him.

"-but I though it was a myth, Lord!" Snape was exclaiming.

"No, it's a piece of history that has been surrounded by stories over the years. I assure you Merlin's Orb is real, and it has just been found. Well, the temple that's holding it anyway."

"Wouldn't that simply mean that the Orb would be excavated in a matter or days?" Lucius asked.

Voldemort's grainy image went to stand by the window.

"No. There is an ancient type of magic on the temple that smothers out any other type of magic as well as making it very difficult to excavate by muggle means. Machinery will break down for no reason, the ceiling will suddenly cave in, and people will vanish. Because of this few people want to work on this project and the temple is at least the size of Hogwarts and the Ministry of Magic combined." He turned from the window, "but there will be amazing treasures to be unearthed, and one of them is the Orb."

Harry leaned forward as the hissing silence filled his headphones, Moldyshorts had to have more to say than that. He did.

"_Crucio_!"

Lucius dropped like a tonne of bricks, screaming and clawing at the expensive carpet. After a minute Voldemort lifted his wand, leaving the proud blond man a panting heap on the floor.

"That was for your son's incompetence. I would have done it to him but he may be useful in the future, and with the way he is now this curse would break him."

Lucius struggled to his feet and straightened his clothes.

"T-thank you for your mercy, my lord."

"Save it," the red-eyed monster snarled, "I came here today to put two plans into action that would have been the downfall of the Ministry and Dumbeldore! Now, I can only begin one until a more suitable candidate is found for the other. So, Lucius, Snape, I order you to plant spies in the team unearthing the Ziyang-Choo Temple in China. Make sure they can follow orders but are expendable. They are to send reports every week, and you will inform me of any important news. Do you understand?"

Snape and Lucius bowed dutifully, with the same murmured conformation.

"Good. Now we will return to the dining room so I can say goodbye to your family Malfoy."

Voldemort swept past the two stunned men and out of the doors.

Harry felt the headphones yanked from his head then was almost dragged from his seat by his wrist.

"Quick!" Draco snapped, tugging him desperately. "We have to get back to the dining room before him!"

Narcissa already was out of the room with her hand waiting impatiently on the wall bracket. The second the two boys were clear she yanked it down, hitched her expensive dress up around her legs and sprinted out of the door. Harry and Draco followed her out into the corridor where they began to pick up speed. Soon the walls were blurring past and _still_ they were getting faster. It should have been impossible, but to a vampire it was something taken for granted.

It had initially taken them nine minutes to get from the dining room to the hidden one. They were back outside the dining room doors in less than a minuet and weren't even out of breath. Immediately Harry focused on changing his eyes back to silver as Draco let go of his arm as though it were a hot coal. It wasn't until after Harry had completely transformed his eyes that he realised he'd let Draco touch him not once, not twice, but _three_ times in the past hour and a half. Harry mentally gave a pain-staking sigh and decided to put it to one side for now as there were more important things to deal with.

A dark aura rippled down the corridor making the waiting vampires skin itch with the almost physical weight of the filthy magic. A slight turn of the head was all that was needed to see Voldemort stalking towards them with Snape and Lucius at his heels. Narcissa stepped comfortably into her role as Lady of the Manor.

"My Lord, we were just about to retire to the parlour. Would you care to join us?"

Demonic red eyes in a human face settled eagerly on Harry.

"Why yes, it will be enjoyable to say my farewells in comfort."

Harry and Draco obidentially stepped back to let him pass, heads bowed, but as Voldemort walked past them one hand shot out and snaked it around Harry's waist pulling the slight boy against his side. What little colour the Gryffindor had regained drained away like water through sand.

"I would like you by my side, baby snake," was all Voldemort hissed, practically dragging the frozen boy along. Helpless to do anything the others followed wordlessly.

Parts of Harry's mind were screaming at him: there was the gibbering fearful one that had taken centre stage since the start of the summer holidays. The practical one that ultimately got Harry through all the life and death situations he'd found himself in was continuing the steady mantra of keeping his eyes silver. Then there was the dark, shapeless one that did not yet have a voice: only hissed and spat its hatred at the world. And lastly the strange whispering one that reminded him patiently that his fingers and toes were starting to tingle with the first signs of pins and needles. Soon it would turn into the starving cramp that would consume his whole body if he did not feed within the next few hours.

They reached the parlour.

The elegant room, full of light and space did nothing to calm Harry.

Finally Voldemort released him, but did not step away. Instead, like earlier, one pale hand snaked out and roughly grasped Harry's chin, lifting his head until he was staring into the burning red eyes.

"I hope to see you again, baby snake. We will have much to discuss I'm sure."

Before Harry could mumble an acceptable response harsh lips covered his own, forcing them open and thrusting a tongue inside, violating his mouth. Then they were gone and Voldemort was stepping back smirking.

"Sweet," was all he announced before reaching into the pocket of his robe and vanishing. A portkey then.

Harry could feel the others behind him relax, but his muscles went on tightening until they were wound so tightly he was trembling.

_That did not just happen._

Snape came up behind him, halting within an arms length. They had been frostily polite to each other so far, only speaking to each other when they absolutely had to. Yet Harry had found that the intense, burning hatred he'd carried for the Head of Slytherin house after losing Sirius, had faded to a minor dislike. Snape however still seemed to hate him quite fiercely, even though he now looked nothing like his father.

"Potter?"

There was distaste in the subject of the word itself, but underlying it was concern. If Snape, who would happily dance on his grave, was concerned, then it must have happened.

Voldemort had kisses him. No, more like _raped_ his mouth.

The glass platue that Harry had managed to suspend himself on over his emotions, shattered, and they rose to swallow him in a dark, boiling wave.

Snape was picked up by an unseen hand and thrown across the room, hitting the wall hard and sliding to the floor in a crumpled heap. Lucius started forward and was slammed back into the doors.

"Stay _away_ from me!"

Draco stared around in horror as the furniture in the room rose to hover threateningly in the air.

"Harry-" Narcissa started, taking a small step forward. A chair hurtled towards her and she nimbly dodged.

"Stay away," Harry sobbed, edging away. "Just leave me alone, please."

"We just want to help you, Harry," Narcissa kept her voice soft and unthreatening.

Harry backed further away still, blindly shaking his head.

"No – no, you don't. I want to leave."

"And where would you go, Harry? You haven't finished your training."

By now Harry had backed himself up against the wall, the furniture making a barrier between him and everyone else in the room. Lucius was still pinned by the force holding him to the door, and Snape was getting groggily to his feet, blinking and shaking his head.

"I don't care," Harry moaned, "anywhere but here."

He looked straight at Draco, eyes filled with so many warring emotions it was a wonder he hadn't collapsed under the weight of them.

"Just anywhere but here," the Gryffindor whispered and disappeared with a loud _crack_.

The magic holding Lucius and the furniture vanished, dropping everything to the ground. The Lord of the Manor scrambled back to his feet in a most undignified way.

"How did he get past the wards? No one should be able to apperate on Malfoy land unless they have made a truth-alliance with us!"

Snape stumbled over, his features gradually softening back to his younger self.

"He's a bloody Gryffindor, Lucius, all pig-headed stubbornness. The brat probably blasted his way out."

Narcissa ignored the two men behind her. She stood there; all cool poise and emotionless face, giving absolutely nothing away, masking the fact that her mind would look something similar to a fireworks display to a Legilimens. Thoughts span randomly, until they collided with another spark and suddenly made sense.

"Silence."

The voice was quiet, but grew outwards like a ripple in a pond, subduing Lucius and Snape who had begun to argue, and the squeaking house elves that were distraught over the state of the room and blaming themselves. All eyes turned to Narcissa.

"Draco."

The teenager finally looked away from the vacant patch of air Harry had been occupying.

"Yes, mother?"

"Go and get Griffin, and both of you track Harry down. If I were him I'd head for muggle London: near to wizards if he needs it but out of sight as well."

"But muggle London is huge, mother! How are we meant to find him?"

She gazed at him, her features gradually softening back into her younger form. "I'm sure you can find a way," and she continued staring at him, her normally sparkling blue eyes piercing through him. _Dammit, she knows_!

"But, love-" Lucius began and Narcissa raised a hand, cutting him off.

"The Council will be arriving this evening to meet Harry, if you remember dear. Out of all of us here, I sense that the only ones that will find Harry in time are Draco and Griffin."

And that was it. Once Narcissa had 'sensed' the future, no one disobeyed her.

Lucius and Severus sighed and left the room together, presumably to ready the smaller meeting room for the Council. Draco moved to follow them out of the room to find Griffin, who probably wasn't far, when his arm was grasped in a surprisingly strong grip by his mother.

"Draco, I also sense that something, I'm can't say what, is going to happen to Harry tonight, and I'm afraid it's far from good. But, if you find him you may be able to shoulder some of the burden."

Draco bit back a groan. _Couldn't that idiot stay out of trouble for five minutes?_

"I'll do my best, though I don't see why as he won't be grateful."

His mother sent him a gentle smile.

"You know why, dear one."

Draco sighed.

"Just how long have you known? I only found out a little while ago."

Narcissa giggled.

"I believe I got my first suggestion of it when I saw you and Harry at the World Cup."

Draco sputtered, falling back in shock to lean against the wall.

"You figured it out that long ago! Why didn't you tell me?"

Narcissa didn't reply immediately. Instead she turned and walked over to one of the huge windows that completely lined one wall and took a second to enjoy the warmth of the sun.

"This is not the type of thing you tell someone, instead they have to realise it themselves. Only that way can they fully accept and learn from it."

Draco stared at his mother. How would he have reacted if someone had told him, instead of him working it out himself? For a start he would have thrown a much worse temper-tantrum then the one he had thrown in the library. And he would have resisted the bond with all his might, simply because he would have felt that he was being forced into a relationship with Harry. But because he'd discovered that he and Harry were soulmates by himself, he was gradually starting to accept and even enjoy to possibility of him, a Malfoy, and Harry Potter not being enemies.

The Slytherin strode over to the door and swung it open. He paused on the threshold.

"Thank you."

Then he jogged off in search of Griffin.

Narcissa smiled at no one.

"I know you and Harry will ultimately be very happy with each other, and that your love for each other will reshape the course of the future."

Harry had been wondering around London for hours.

When he'd apparated out of Malfoy Manor the glamour on his hair had broken but he'd kept the bandanna on. With a flick of his hands he'd transfigured his clothes back into the shorts, trainers and vest top they'd been before Narcissa had changed them into something a little more upper-class for meeting Voldemort, so as to blend in with the crowed street. Then he'd just walked without stopping for the rest of the day.

His body had simply gone on automatic while his mind had gone off somewhere else, and he was so focused on not being there, that he didn't realise that the faint pins-and-needles had grown into a full-body cramp and that he was shaking violently.

When Harry finally became aware of his surroundings, the sun had long since gone down and he was in one of the most dangerous areas of London; filled with bars, nightclubs and porn shops. Prostitutes hawked their wears on every corner. Drug-dealers, thieves and gangs prowled the packed streets.

With his awareness of his surroundings came the awareness of the pain in his body that hit him all at once, with the weight of a double decker bus.

"Urg…"

Harry fell sideways into an alley and staggered deeper into the stinking quiet until the noise from the main street could no longer be heard.

A group of tramps sharing a bottle of whiskey saw the boy stumbling towards them and decided to make themselves scare, believing him to be either a junkie suffering withdrawal, or a beaten prostitute trying to make a break for it.

Desperate now and his vision fading fast, Harry tried to snatch at the last tramp as the man ran past, but, in Harry's weakened state, the man found it easy to shake the vampires trembling hand off.

"I'm such an idiot," Harry whispered to himself as he collapsed against a stack of empty crates.

_Yes, you are, aren't you._

"What?"

Looking blearily around the filthy alley Harry saw no one.

"Am I hearing things too?"

_If that's what it takes to convince you I'm here, then yes._

Harry was about to respond when a door further down the alley was thrown open. Music blasted out, deafening Harry's sensitive ears, and five drunk, laughing men stumbled out of the back door to one of the nightclubs.

Harry by this time was barely conscious and slumped on the ground: a delicate, shaking, beautiful boy.

They quickly noticed him.

"Hey, check it out! Hottie at nine o'clock!"

"Damn! Is that a boy or girl?"

"Who cares: I'm getting' a piece of that!"

They stalked towards him, stinking of alcohol and lust.

All of them were much bigger and heavier than him, but if they'd found him even an hour ago Harry could have probably fought them off with the last of his vampiristic strength. Now he was weaker than a human, and didn't stand a chance.

_Shit. It's going to happen again. I'm going to be raped again!_

A coarse hand yanked his face up.

"Why, it's a pretty little boy. Just what I'm in the mood for."

"Gary, you go keep an eye out. We don't want anyone to disturb our fun!"

"Hey man, why me? I wanted a taste too!"

Harry was yanked to his feet then turned around and thrown across the top of a crate so he was bent at the perfect angle for the would-be rapists.

"Jeez Gary, think man! You didn't get _any_ rounds in tonight. Tell you what, you can go last."

"Oh, okay. Just as long as I get a bit, that's all I'm asking."

"No sweat, man."

There was the sound of shuffling feet as 'Gary' moved down the alley to keep a lookout.

"Hey, this kid can't be more than sixteen."

There was a snort.

"Yeah? And he's here, so he's either a junkie, thief or whore. Just enjoy yourself mate, we'll probably never see such a looker around here again."

_Oh God, please don't let this happen again. Pleasepleasepleaseplease._

_Why are you asking a God to save you? Save yourself, pathetic child!_

A hand reached around and began to undo the button and zipper on his shorts.

_You really are worthless, aren't you? How are you meant to kill the most dangerous wizard in the world since Merlin's time, if you can't even protect yourself?_

His shorts and boxers were yanked down around knees.

_That's right. There's the prophecy. How am I ever going to hope to survive? Fighting used to be so easy, even though I was scared. It was just a natural reaction. Why do I find it so hard now?_

The thing that Harry had noticed earlier, in the presence of Voldemort: that black _shape_ in the back of his conscience, shifted and drifted forward through the pain and seemed to hover just behind his eyes.

_Feh, that's easy: you've pushed all your anger, hatred and passion down to me, even when you laugh now don't you feel like something's missing? Almost as if there's nothing behind it._

Harry's hands scrabbled uselessly at the crate, trying to get enough leverage to push away so he could run to safety. But the bones in his arms seemed to have melted, similar to the time when Lockhart accidentally 'vanished' them.

"Please, _don't_. Let me go!"

_Look at you. A month ago would you ever have begged? You're now lower than the dirt and let anyone walk all over you, and because of that we're about to be raped _again

_We?_

"Aw, listen to him."

"Make him beg again, it makes me so hot."

_Yes: we. I'm a part of you that grew into a separate consciousness over the years. If you want, I can get us out of this situation._

Whichever man was positioned behind him let out a lustful groan and began running his hands over Harry's thighs and buttocks.

_Please! I can't get myself out of this. What do I need to do?_

Harry could feel the man positioning himself at his entrance. He only had a few more seconds.

_Just step back and let me take over._

_But how do I-_

_Quickly!_

Harry concentrated. He focused all that was left of himself besides the pain into mentally stepping behind the black shape hovering by his eyes. There was a strange _shift_, and the sound of breaking glass as the blackness surged forward. Then Harry found himself falling into a sea of grey.

The last thing he was aware of was a cruel, victorious laugh reverberating around the inside of his head, the sound of five terrified screams and a feeling that he'd just made a terrible mistake.

Draco was beyond irritable.

He and Griffin had been scouring muggle London for hours: following Harry's fading trail, and they'd ended up in a rat-infested hell-hole of night clubs, pubs and porn shops. The lowest dregs of society flowed around the lamie, giving him wide birth due to the dangerous aura he was radiating. Griffin was sticking to the rooftops as they'd discovered much earlier on that walking around with a raven on your shoulder drew too much attention.

It was here that they'd lost the trail. The noise and smells had made it impossible to track Harry by scent or emotions (Draco had been following what could only be described as a dark blackish-green emotion that had always been uniquely Harry's whenever he was feeling threatened and overwhelmed,) and so they'd had to revert back to the age-old custom of looking and hoping they strike it lucky.

A group of tramps wandered past sharing a bottle of whiskey and their smell of alcohol and unwashed bodies hit Draco so hard his vision momentarily darkened. He was about to yell something insulting at them involving water, soap and an iguana when what one tramp was saying caught his ears, freezing him to the spot.

"-he grabbed my sleeve, like, but he was so weak I shook him off right away and scarpered, but I feel a bit guilty now with him shaking so bad an' all, he may've jus' been tryin' t' ask for help."

Another tramp slapped the speaker on the shoulder in a friendly manner.

"Forget it mate. He must've been either a junkie or whore, I recon the whore meself 'cos he's got th' eyes of one. Anyways, gettin' mixed up with either'll just spell trouble fr' us. If he's a junkie he'll try t' rob us every time we got summink and he'll bring the dealers down on us. If he's a whore he was probably tryin' t' do a runner from is pimp, right lads?"

"Yeah. Shame though, best lookin' whore I ever seen."

There was a mutual agreement through the group and they were about to wander on when a hand shot lightning fast out of nowhere and grabbed the first speaker by the grubby collar. The tramp looked along the arm and up into a pair of icy cold steel eyes. A frightened squeak involuntary left his mouth.

"The boy, did he have long black hair and the most amazing green eyes you've ever seen?"

The tramp quickly nodded.

"And was he so beautiful he seemed almost inhuman?"

Another nod, although the tramp found himself wanting to say _'you're so beautiful, you look inhuman as well, but you're much scarier too!'_

"Where is he?"

The tramps behind the trapped one got over their surprise and began to whisper amongst themselves.

"Crap! He must be the pimp!"

"Jeez, they just seem to be getting' younger and younger."

"Just tell 'im John, this ain't worth dyin' ova."

John took what his friends said seriously and raised a shaking hand to point back towards a distant alley mouth through the crowd.

"G-go down there, when you reach the first cross roads take a left, the second a right. That's where we saw the kid, I swear!"

He'd barely finished stuttering the words when he found himself landing on the dirty paving stones. As his friends helped him to his feet, John looked up to see the tall blond disappearing down the alley, a huge black bird settling on his shoulder.

"Damn, John. You sure got lucky, that guy looks like a high up."

"H-high up?"

"Yeah, y'know one of the real gangsters: mafia. And probably high on t' chain of command too."

"Yeah, did ya see his clothes! Real expensive! An' the way he walked, liked he owned t' place."

"Mafia?" John whispered and fainted clean away.

Draco had just taken the first crossroads when a terrifying sensation brought him to his knees.

\Kid?\ Griffin asked in worry.

"Crap. What's he done to himself now?"

Fighting back the sickening sensation, Draco pushed himself back up to his feet and continued down the dark alley.

\What's wrong?\

"Let's just say I've got a bad feeling, that it's not mine and leave it at that bird."

They'd only gone a few feet further when the screams reached them.

"What the hell?"

\Sounds painful, whatever's happening.\

Ignoring Harry's feelings as much as possible Draco pushed himself forward into a jog, then as the screams grew, a full out sprint. They soon reached the second crossroads and turned right only to meet a man sprinting towards them.

"P-please help me! A monster, he's a monster!"

When the man was within fifty yards of Draco, the blond could clearly see the bloodstains covering his clothes and face and the man's eyes that were terrified to the point of insanity. The man collapsed at his feet.

"What happened?"

The man gibbered incomprehensibly for a few moments before gasping out an explanation.

"We came outta the back door of the club an' found this kid lying on the ground. We figured him to be a drugged up prostitute, an' wanted a bit of free fun, y'know."

Suddenly the man found himself thrown up against the alley wall so hard he felt some ribs crack.

"You what?" Draco hissed dangerously, his steel grey eyes almost glowing as his hand tightened around the petrified man's throat.

The man seemed to come to the same conclusion as the tramps.

"I swear, nothing happened! Before we could do anything the kid went nuts and …and …"

He gagged and Draco dropped him in enough time to move out of the way as the man vomited noisily.

"Run."

The man looked up from his prostrate position on the ground.

"W-what?"

"Run, or I'll kill you."

Seconds later there were only fading running footsteps.

\I still would have killed him.\

Draco didn't reply, instead he set off towards whatever the man had been running from. The closer he got the stronger the smell of blood became until he felt his fangs extend against his will and he felt he was drowning in it. There was a corner ahead of him and he knew when he rounded it he would find the source of the smell. There was a soft dripping sound in the otherwise noiseless air. He didn't want to turn the corner. He dreaded what he already half knew he would find.

He turned it.

No sound came from his mouth as he gapped at the scene before him. He stood there, staring yet utterly disbelieving.

"This is a nightmare, please Merlin let this be a nightmare."

Blood was splattered over the walls and ground, coating everything in red like a morbid painting. Thick pieces of flesh and other body parts lay limply in inch thick crimson puddles. The remains of the four men themselves lay scattered along the alley, forever frozen in a petrified attempt to escape the figure standing with their head bowed, fringe hiding their eyes and arms hanging limply down in front of them, in the centre of the alley, happily licking the blood from their lips.

"Harry! What have you fucking _done_?" Draco screamed.

The monster turned, its eyes piercing the gloom, burning ruby red. The tips of its ears had sharpened to long points and its nails had lengthened and hardened into wickedly sharp claws.

"Harry?" It snarled softly, blood dripping from its chin. "Harry's gone. Trapped in here now." It tapped its chest. "I'm Solo."

\Possession?\ Griffin asked worriedly. Draco shook his head.

"No. Even worse."

The thing that proclaimed itself as Solo straightened to face them fully. There wasn't a single patch of skin or clothing that didn't seem to be splattered with red gore.

"We call it Blood Lust," the blond whispered.

\Blood Lust?\

Draco nodded, never taking his eyes from the dangerous figure in front of him.

"I'm surprised you've never heard of it. Due to the face that vampires live such long lives compared to humans, and have a different type of magic, our minds are much bigger so we experience things more intensely. So if something really horrible happens sometimes our minds just …split and we develop what humans call a split personality. We call it Blood Lust because one side of the personality is always hateful and loves blood and killing. If it's not controlled, confronted and fully dealt with, that side of the personality will grow until it completely takes over. It happened to my Aunt Bellatrix."

\So what do we do?\

The monster took a step towards them, splashing blood up its leg. Both Draco and Griffin flinched.

"We have to get Harry to the Council, they have the power to push this personality – Solo – down."

\Then I think we have a bit of a fight on our hands.\

Draco gritted his teeth and settled himself into a fighting stance: feet spread, one behind the other, arms raised in front of his chest, hands opened and relaxed.

"I believe you're right. We need to knock him out, then I can take him back with a portkey I've got."

\Right. I'll do all I can to help.\

Griffin spread his huge wings and lifted himself into the air. Almost as if that was a signal Solo/Harry sprinted forward, raising a sheet of red spray and grinning all the while, showing his long canines.

Draco readied himself, letting his mind fall into a familiar blank state. If he thought about anything now his concentration would snap and that would be all his soulmate would need to rip his throat out.

His eyes snapped open as the irises swirled and became glowing silver, the pupils becoming slits in his heightened state of awareness. With an inhuman snarl he lunged forward, focused entirely on winning this fight.

Because if he didn't win he was dead.

Here ends the chapter.

1. Recently, my mum felt like I needed a break, and took me on holiday to Scotland and stayed by this beautiful Loch (Loch Awe I believe) and this is what I had for dinner one night. I didn't know weather to eat it or take a picture of it!

30


	6. The Start of a Beginning

A/N: Well …I'm back. Finally.

I'm afraid a lot has happened over the past year: I've got my own place and had to settle for several months without a computer or phone line. I've gone back to college and am now applying to universities (I can now sympathise with anyone having to do the UCAS form) and sadly, my illness has been getting the better of me.

A huge thank you to all of you wonderful people who offered to beta for me. There were so many offers I'm afraid I couldn't reply to you all.

Thank you all so much for being so patient with me (only a few, creative threats!) As well as all of your heartfelt reviews: every time I'm feeling ill I go and read them and they always lift my spirits.

I'd like you all to consider this chapter as my Christmas present to you for your unending support and belief.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

A huge thanks to my betas: Totemo and Shadow. Love you guys!

Warning: There is quite a bit of gore in this chapter. Consider yourself warned.

Disclaimer: Oh, the tragedy of not owning Harry Potter is killing me, and yet still no one has given me the copyright…

Chapter Six – The Start of a Beginning 

Lucius downed the single malt whiskey as though it was water, and poured himself another glass.

Narcissa sent him a frown before returning to gazing out of the window at the night sky. Every few minutes she would glance over to a large, fine wood door before quickly looking away.

"They've been in there for more than five hours now," Lucius growled out, his eyes slightly glazed. "Do you think-"

Narcissa quickly raised her hand, halting him.

"Hush, husband. We must hope, for that's all we can do right now."

Lucius was silent for a few seconds, staring down at the amber liquid in the glass.

"Sometimes it's hard to hope."

Narcissa rose from her seat by the window and glided over to him, before enfolding him in a warm embrace.

"It's hard, but not impossible."

They remained like that until the doors opened a few minutes later.

A strange assortment of people emerged; some were children, others looked to be in their thirties. Some were dressed in smart suits, others in outlandish clothes that barely covered them. There were twenty-three of them in total and they made up the council that governed the vampire world.

They came to a halt in front of Lucius and Narcissa, then one young man stepped forward. He was a boy who looked no older than eighteen with strange white hair and cat-like yellow eyes.

" Lord Abunai,(1)" Lucius breathed. "How are they?"

"Stable."

Abunai had a strange, husky voice: as though he'd spent the past twenty-four hours screaming.

Before Lucius had a chance to say anything more the door opened yet again and Severus walked out, forehead pinched into a tight frown as it did when he was tired, and dark eyes focused elsewhere.

"Define stable." Lucius ground out, turning on Abunai again.

A slight smile graced the Council vampire's lips before answering.

"Mr Potter and your son are both suffering from magical exhaustion and blood loss. Draco's condition was more worrying but we've managed to repair the ruptured organs and shattered bones. However the flesh wounds Mr Potter inflicted on him won't heal. I assume you weren't aware of this connection?"

Lucius' head jerked up, eyes wide. A glance at Severus confirmed it.

"They're soulmates?" He whispered.

"It would appear so. Only wounds inflicted by a soulmate will not be healed by magic, as the wound is also made on the soul. They're not deep though and will heal without any complications, only it'll have to be done the old fashioned way."

The tension Lucius hadn't been aware of, loosened from around his shoulders, then a snort brought his head back up.

"Well. I must thank you for explaining that to us, Master Abunai, _sir._ After all, we're merely lower vampires, and have no understanding of such complex general knowledge as the soulmate principle."

Unsurprisingly, it was Severus who was speaking, his deadpan intonation _almost_ making it seem like he wasn't being sarcastic.

Abunai sent him an almost feral grin.

"Forgive me my faux pas, dear Severus, I become over-meticulous when wearied."

Severus grudgingly let him continue, a testimony to how exhausted he was.

"The reason we took so long was that we ran into several …complications, when repressing Harry's 'other' half."

"Since when has anything the brat is involved in any less than 'complicated'," Severus' taunt was half-hearted at best.

Abunai reached back and pulled his hair out of the messy ponytail, letting the white strands fall around his shoulders. Then he rubbed a hand tiredly over his face.

"May we sit down before we continue this elucidation? Your son and Harry are quite safe and very unconscious for the moment."

Narcissa smoothly stepped forward and beckoned the large group to follow her. Within a matter of minutes they were all seated at a large table with refreshments placed before them by silent house elves.

"Now, please continue."

Abunai took a sip from his glass before nodding to Narcissa, who had just spoken.

"Of course. As you all know it is indeed a tragic thing for a vampire to be consumed by Blood Lust: they loose their sense of self and an immeasurable hunger for violence and blood consumes them. But with Harry we found something …different."

He paused to take another sip of his drink. Or maybe he just enjoyed drawing out a moment as long as possible.

"Now. We describe the effects of Blood Lust as the mind splitting under its own weight. While that is to some extent true it is not an apt description of what happens; it is simply an easy one.

"The mind splits due to extreme mental, physical and sometimes magical stress, forcing all positive emotions like love, happiness and peace to be lost, leaving only hatred, anger, and a fierce animalistic hunger to attack and consume every living thing."

He paused again to drink and Snape found himself hard pressed not to try and drown the melodrama-loving vampire in his cup. He wasn't quite sure how he'd go about it, but he was more than willing to persist until he found a way.

"So in essence the vampire is still themselves, but they have buried a large part of their personality so deep within their mind that they have very little chance of ever retrieving it again.

"If we, the Council, or other highly trained teams of vampires can catch it in time we can sometimes heal the split before the emotions have completely severed from each other. If that is not possible we use a magical artefact – usually a piece of jewellery - to bridge the gap and keep the vampire whole, and as long as they always wear the earring or the necklace or bracelet they will be perfectly fine, and over the years the split will heal itself."

"So this is not what has happened to Harry?" Narcissa leaned forward, her face perfectly blank.

Abunai focused his cat-like eyes on her.

"No, I'm afraid not. What we found in Harry was two completely separate personalities. They both have full access to all of their emotions although the one who we had to suppress was far more aggressive and displayed the blood-lust hunger.

"I am not sure if you are aware but it usually take years to build up enough of a split-personality for it to be conscious enough to take control of the host. Some people do this as a coping mechanism – they pretend to be someone else to deal with situations they feel otherwise unable to manage. Over time the 'mask' of the fake personality becomes more and more real until it completely separates itself from the core personality and the host will find themselves suffering from memory loss when the other personality is dominant. They can be utterly unaware that they are suffering from a serious mental disease."

"This is preposterous," Snape snarled and Abunai turned to him.

"Over the past year has Harry acted out of character at all, maybe been more prone to losing his temper very quickly, or become unable to remember things as well as he normally would. Or has he ever just drifted off and apparently lost himself in his thoughts for hours?"

The frozen look on Snape's face was apparently all the answer he needed, and the Council leader sat back satisfied.

"That was Harry's other half trying to take over. He was probably unaware of it but he would have subconsciously been pouring strength into holding the other back, which would have put a lot of strain on him on top of everything else. Now, the important thing we need to discern is why Harry's other half came out _now._ From what we can gather something happened at the end of his last school year. What was it?"

Snape fought not to shrug uncomfortably when he found himself yet again the focus of all eyes around the table.

"There was a battle at the Department of Mysteries after Potter received a false vision from Voldemort. He took his friends and without thinking of the consequences rushed off. During the battle all of his friends were hurt and the stupid mutt of his godfather got himself killed."

Abunai nodded.

"Looking back over the time-line of the boy's emotions that was what started the rise to control by his other personality, the first crack so to speak, but it was not what completed it. Where does he stay during the summer holidays before he returns to school?"

"With his muggle relatives. He's got blood protection there in the form of his mother's sister."

"With his family?"

The room suddenly dropped several degrees and Abunai's hair started waving softly in the magical currents rippling off him.

"Then perhaps you would like to explain to me why Harry's emotions were of nothing but depression, despair and terror when he was staying with these _relatives_?"

Snape was struck dumb. Albus had told him that the boy did not like going home in the summer, but he'd assumed it was because the spoilt brat would be away from all his adoring fans.

"He – he was probably mourning his godfather," he hated the fact that he stuttered.

"That does not explain why he was terrified the whole time. We shall look into this later."

Snape gave a weak nod.

"That was where the second crack originated. The third was when he turned. You must understand this is very serious."

"How do you mean?" It was Lucius who spoke this time.

"I understand that he went to Diagon Alley after he fully turned?"

"Yes, he did mention it."

"Of course, you are all aware that when a human is turned, sometimes they cannot accept the change and the reactions their bodies experience, which can cause the loss of their sanity. You told me in your rather detailed letter that Harry claims not to have been bitten, so for his body to suddenly change like that when his mind was already falling apart caused a temporary lapse in his stability. Plainly speaking, Harry was hovering on the very tip of insanity when he went to Diagon Alley. He could have experienced and committed acts that seemed perfectly rational to him at the time, but were in fact utterly irrational and extremely dangerous to others. When he awakes it is imperative you find out _exactly_ what he did while there. He may have even, however unwittingly, revealed he was a vampire."

Quickly forcing down the desire to march upstairs and slap the brat awake took all of Severus' considerable control. According to Abunai it would only cause the child to fall completely over the edge.

"Now, there were three more cracks in his personality after all this. Two, I believe happened here, the other just before Draco found him. I know we will be unlikely to find out what caused the last one unless Harry himself tells us, but can anyone enlighten me on the two that happened here?"

As Narcissa began to explain the magical explosion by the lake and Voldemort's kiss, Snape leant back in his chair, taking a sip of the rich red liquid from his glass and musing over what he had been told so far. He could only go by what Abunai said about Potter since he'd been focused on healing Draco and Draco alone since the Malfoy heir had portkeyed back with an unconscious Potter, covered in blood and badly wounded. He'd only managed to pass the smaller boy over before he'd collapsed. But as he thought back over the past year things began to make sense; like Potter's ineptitude to grasp even the basic principles of Occlumency, but the fact that he'd managed to teach himself enough to go undetected in the same room as Voldemort. Obviously teaching someone Occlumency without knowledge that they actually had two separate consciousnesses was a disaster waiting to happen. There was also the fact that since Potter had been at the Manor he hadn't antagonized Snape about the mutt's death, which the Potions Master knew he'd been blaming him for when school had ended. Nor had he reacted to Lucius, even though the man (as far as the boy knew) was supposed to be in Azkaban.

Snape's fists clenched under the table: Abunai was right. The boy was balancing on a razor's edge over a pit of insanity, and he was the most likely candidate, however much he protested, to healing the boy due to his understanding of the layout of the mind and psychology.

Damn it.

He centred back on the conversation just as Narcissa was drawing to a close. The Council were looking grim.

Abunai pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stave off the growing headache.

"Kurai(2), please explain what we had to do to subdue Harry's other half."

A frighteningly perfect man with long blood red hair and cold golden eyes with a distinctly asian tint leaned forward. His beauty was made even more paramount by the three thin scars he had on his left cheek, as though a huge cat had scratched him. They started an inch under his eye and angled off to the back of his jaw under his ear. It was known to only a very select few how he got them, but there were rumours that Abunai had caused them when they had first met and supposedly battled. Snape personally didn't trust rumours, only cold hard fact.

"Of course," Kurai's voice was completely opposite to Abunai's husky, emotional tenor. His was smooth, like water, and colder than a deadly snowstorm.

"Abunai earlier explained that if the breach in emotions cannot be healed in time then we link it with a piece of pure magic manifested in the form of jewellery. The larger the breach the more complicated and dominating the piece of jewellery. For instance, someone who's consumed by Blood Lust for only a few hours before we can create a link may only end up with a small, simple ring or a pair of earrings that is easily overlooked. Someone who has been consumed by Blood Lust for anything up to a month may end up with a bracelet. Anything up to a year and it will most likely be a necklace. If we have not managed to create a link for them within that time, they become more often than not too dangerous to approach."

Kurai paused and looked slowly from face to face, making sure everyone was paying attention. Snape was mortified to find himself repressing a shiver when the cold golden eyes passed over him. He knew Kurai was the General of the Ebenus – the vampire race's army of over ten thousand – and that the man had committed terrifying crimes to preserve the survival of his species. Severus didn't even feel like this when Voldemort stared into his eyes. So why did this man have such an effect on him?

"When Mr Potter was brought back here and we began the ritual, we thought that because of his separate personalities combined with the fact that he'd only been 'split' for a few hours we'd probably have to make a bracelet."

He paused to take a sip of his drink, but Snape could tell that unlike Abunai, with his love for drama, Kurai was practical and liked things laid bare as quickly and efficiently as possible. He was only drinking because his throat was most likely dry.

"However, the current dominant personality was much …stronger then we'd anticipated. He was in fact so strong that he almost broke the circle three times, and that was only with his mind and completely unaware of the type of magic we were using. If he had been awake, like others have been, or if he had understood our magic, well, I imagine he would have killed us quite easily."

"But Draco defeated him beforehand, and he is not as skilled with offensive magic and physical fighting as you are, General Kurai, or as strong magically as you are, Lord Abunai."

Abunai chuckled at Narcissa's statement, leaving it to Kurai to answer.

"Indeed the boy is not. I for one will be making sure he steps up his training. The only way your son beat Mr Potter was because of the 'other' half and I'm sure Mr Potter himself had no idea that he was battling his soulmate. Young Mr Malfoy would have been prepared for what would happen when they hurt each other. Mr Potter was not and would have ended up disorientated enough to have been stunned."

The other Council members nodded in agreement and Kurai continued.

"Which leads me back to what I was saying. Mr Potter has the worst case of Blood Lust we've ever seen and considering all of the Council are over four hundred years old you understand the severity of the situation. We had to create the most complex and powerful link-jewellery that we were capable of and he may still shatter it. It is in the form of a silver collar around his neck and is very obvious. Unfortunately, due to the amount of concentrated magic, it cannot be hidden by any spell either. With time we may be able to give him smaller jewellery but it all depends on his healing. I'm not even sure if it is possible to heal from something this absolute. However, if there is a chance we must attempt it as we have strong reason to believe he is the Akarui Kurai-"

Kurai was cut off by a sudden bout of hysteria from Abunai.

"R-remember when the old Council thought it might be you because of your name, Kurai? I don't think I've ever laughed so hard in my life!"

Icy silence radiated out from the General and spread around the table, daring any of the others to laugh, which they didn't. They valued their lives too much.

"I'm pleased I can still cause you merriment, Abunai," Kurai purred and the Council leader controlled his laughter long enough to catch the threat and wisely stifle any further noise, although his shoulders shook from time to time.

"As I was saying, we have a strong reason to believe Mr Potter may be the Akarui Kurai, which is where you will come in, Snape."

Severus noticed the General didn't put a 'Mr' in front of his name, and pushed down a growl. Really, his emotions were getting annoyingly out of hand. As he lifted his head to show Kurai he had his undivided attention he slipped all feelings of annoyance, worry and a yearning need to prove himself or punch Kurai in the face into his quicksilver Occlumency pools and felt his mind go blissfully still.

"With your understanding of vampire and human minds, and your skills with Occlumency it will fall to you to help Mr Potter heal. You will report anything pivotal to us but otherwise everything will fall to you."

Snape nodded, knowing that if he spoke, Kurai would probably take it as a challenge.

"Now that we have covered all the necessary information, we need to know how Mr Potter's training has been progressing."

Narcissa and Lucius began to lay out what Harry had achieved so far, with the occasional comment thrown in from Severus. As important as the information was, all at the table found their thoughts to be straying to the two unconscious boys healing upstairs.

Draco dreamed. Or rather, he remembered.

_He could barely breathe, his chest heaving as his body screamed for oxygen. _

_There was a blur to his left and he ducked just in time. The crate that had been stacked behind him exploded in a shower of splinters._

_He leapt to the side, sliding in the blood as he landed, but managed to remain upright. He had barely stopped when a shape barrelled towards his chest. He automatically raised his arms, crossing them over his chest and letting them catch the punch that was meant for his ribs._

_It hurt. Oh, Merlin how it hurt._

_Every attack, every touch, made the pink fog smother his mind, it screaming at him that this was _not _how things were meant to be. It accentuated every cut, every bruise, every broken bone until he was nothing but a thrumming wave of unceasing agony._

_He knew it was affecting the other boy as well._

_Solo/Harry would snarl every time they made contact, and the spaces between connecting attacks were getting longer. The boy was obviously confused, unaware of what was causing this painful reaction that was getting worse._

_They circled each other warily, both splattered with their own and the other's blood._

_Draco knew he was too tired to attempt controlled wandless magic; his only hope to subdue Solo/Harry was his wand. Which was conveniently lying on the ground at the other end of the alley, leaving forty feet and a very angry vampire between it and him. He knew he had the advantage though; he was prepared for and knew why they experienced such extreme bouts of pain whenever they touched. Thus, he knew what to expect, while Solo/Harry was sent reeling every time. Hopefully he or Draco would land a bad enough hit to completely throw the smaller boy, giving Draco a chance to get past him and reach his wand._

_The smaller boy suddenly crouched and grabbed something off the ground. Quickly he righted himself, bringing his arm around at the same time and throwing said item._

_With a seeker's reflexes trained into him, Draco wasn't even aware his hand had shot out and caught the falling object until his fist had closed around it and he felt something soft and warm pressing against his palm. Unable to stop himself as horrified fascination gripped him Draco let his fingers pull back to stare at the …thing._

_It was a human ear._

_Bile rose in Draco's throat and he threw the piece of flesh away as he staggered back, his clean hand clamped over his mouth._

_He glanced up at Solo/Harry to see weather the other boy was finding his reaction amusing and he found himself staring at an empty alley._

_Above you! Griffin's voice screamed in his head._

_Wildly, Draco tore his eyes heavenwards in time to see Solo/Harry falling towards him, talons raised above his head in anticipation, black hair streaming out behind him like and red eyes glowing against the night sky like a messenger of death._

_This was it._

_Draco knew that this blow would finish the fight. Now it was down to whether or not he could end it to his advantage._

_Solo/Harry's small frame dropped on him like a tonne of bricks, talons sinking into his shoulders and booted feet crushing into his stomach. Unable to handle the weight Draco fell to the ground with Solo/Harry still determinedly attached to him._

_The pink fog completely obliterated Draco's vision and the pain made him want to scream, vomit and pass out at the same time. Deeming none of them wise ideas he blindly groped forward until his hand came into contact with the torn and sodden fabric of Solo/Harry's shirt. Having found what he needed Draco clenched his fist and started brutally and repeatedly punching Solo/Harry in a certain spot on the other boy's ribs he was sure he'd cracked earlier. The pain instantly tripled. Draco carried on punching. The pain intensified again. Draco was now positive some of his internal organs had ruptured. He could taste the blood filling his throat, pouring from his mouth and drowning his lungs._

_Suddenly Solo/Harry went limp and slid off him. It took several more minutes for Draco to be able to see or hear. The alleyway slowly appeared but refused to snap into focus. Instead he had to make do with a blurred mess. His hearing as well spurned all attempts to behave and it sounded like he was listening to everything underwater. _

_He had to get to his wand. Solo/Harry might be down, but whether he was out Draco didn't know; he didn't want to take any chances._

_One thing was for certain – he would never underestimate petite little Potter's physical strength again._

_It seemed to take him forever to stagger down the alley and locate his wand, and with each passing second he expected talons to sink into his back._

_He almost missed his wand entirely, his vision too fuzzy to realise what the small black blur on the ground was. Then, when he moved to pick it up, he found to his delight, that the puddle of blood it was lying in had partly dried, leaving a lovely sticky mess completely down one side of the wood._

_Cursing creatively under his breath he lurched around and shakily pointed it at the unmoving blur that was Solo/Harry. Catching the thin thread of magic running through the wand he held it back as he murmured 'stupefy' over and over, folding the spells on top of each other, combining them to become one spell so powerful it would kill a standard human. Draco still was unsure as to whether this would be enough to stop Solo/Harry._

_After an agonising moment of deliberation he released the stunning curse and watched the flaming red ball of knotted spells tear down the alley and strike the motionless lump Draco hoped was Solo/Harry._

_Draco kept his eyes fixed on the still form, convinced that even that wouldn't keep the monster Solo down. Every breath rasped through his chest, each one more difficult than the last as blood continued to fill his lungs. It dripped from his chin and joined the huge amount of blood already covering the ground. He'd reached the end of his strength, the end of his adrenalin, the end of his everything: it was a miracle that he was still standing._

_Some noises start so subtly, right on the edge of hearing, that sometimes they aren't consciously noticed at all. This was the case with Draco. He was so focused on Solo/Harry and keeping himself conscious and upright that he was oblivious to anything else._

_Draco suddenly found a flurry of black feathers in his face, making him leap back and almost buckle under the sudden strain he'd put on his exhausted body. _

_Griffin glared at him with his yellow eyes._

_Do you have any idea how long I've been calling you, boy? I even pecked you but you didn't flinch. I can assure you that Harry won't be getting up again, not after that spell knot you hit him with. So I suggest you grab him and get back to the Manor before you collapse._

_It made perfect sense. Draco wondered why he hadn't thought of it earlier._

"_Yeah, yeah. You're right. Got to get back to the Manor."_

_Walking back towards Solo/Harry was even harder than it had been to get to his wand. Griffin was there encouraging him the whole way but the blood loss, open wounds, broken bones and ruptured organs were taking their toll._

_Somehow Draco reached Solo/Harry and let himself fall to his knees beside the unconscious boy. One trembling hand reached under the torn neck of his shirt and withdrew a delicate pendant hanging from a fine silver chain. Gracefully carved on the surface of the pendant was the Malfoy crest._

_Griffin settled on Draco's shoulder, trying to avoid the open wounds as the blond vampire reached forward and wrapped his free hand in the ruins of Solo/Harry's shirt._

"_Transportare incolumitas."_

_The ground vanished from beneath them as they spun through darkness. Draco found himself battling a fierce nausea that the spinning provoked and was so preoccupied that he wasn't prepared for the rough landing as the portkey reached its destination._

_His feet gave way and his knees slammed into the hard stone floor before he started to pitch forward. Strong arms suddenly stopped his fall and Draco forced himself to look up although his head felt as heavy as a canon ball; a blurred figure in black. He could just make out the extremely pale skin and piercing black eyes. Ah, Severus then._

"_Draco, what happened? I need you to tell me."_

_Draco wanted to speak, he really did, but he could barely breathe so he doubted he'd be able to explain what happened._

_His head had become too heavy and he let it fall forward to rest on his chest. He discovered, to his fading amusement, that he had somehow pulled the limp form of Harry into his arms. The younger boy's dark head rested against his wounded chest in a mockery of affection. If not for their broken and blood-spattered bodies and shredded clothes, they could be mistaken for lovers._

_Draco scoffed at himself. As if they could be anything close to that. The uneasy truce between them had only continued so long because Harry had been too thrown by his transformation to demand some very obvious answers. For example, why Draco's father was no longer in Azkaban, or, why Severus was being so cordial when the last time they had spoken to each other, the potions master had confessed – and taken pride in – his part in Sirius Black's death._

"_Draco! Stay awake!"_

_Oh, yes._

_With the last of his strength, Draco managed to push Harry into Severus' arms._

"_T-take care of him. Blood Lust. N-not his fault."_

_With blood dripping from his chin, Draco smiled dreamily at the ceiling and fell forward into oblivion._

Severus Snape had done many terrible things in his life: things that would blaze behind his eyelids every time he closed his eyes. He would never forgive himself and he didn't ask for it from anyone else. To say that he looked back on his transgressions with shame was an understatement, and his self-loathing knew no bounds.

One thing he'd never regretted was his treatment over the years of one Harry Potter. The boy's father and his infuriating friends had made his life miserable with one cruel joke after another. Snape had given as good as he got, but they always seemed to be one step ahead of him. Of course that had been explained once he had found out that not only was Lupin a werewolf, but Potter and Black were both vampires. That had only made things worse. Once they knew he had discovered what they were they didn't hide their 'abilities' around him.

One vivid memory was when Sirius Black had dangled him with one hand by his ankle over the battlements – ten storeys up – with ease thanks to his incredible strength. Another was when James Potter had pretended to drown after being pushed into the lake by Snape during Herbology – he hadn't surfaced for over an hour, then bragged he'd used the bubble-head charm and had conveniently become deaf whenever someone would point out that it was impossible to cast the bubble-head charm underwater.

There were other reasons why Severus' hatred towards James Potter and his friends was so great: all his life he'd been raised to believe that magical creatures like werewolves, vampires, veelas and other human-like beings were animals, and should be treated as such. Yet there were three 'animals' at Hogwarts and later The Order of the Phoenix who were worshiped by the very humans they preyed upon. They, apparently, could do no wrong and butter wouldn't melt in their mouths. He had tried time and time again to make the others understand that they were a threat. That at any moment Potter and his non-human friends could turn on them. But he had been forced to take a secrecy oath when he had discovered Potter and the others' true identities so could not outright tell anyone that they not only had a werewolf in their midst but two vampires as well. Dumbledore had laughed it off and to this day had never found out. McGonagall had muttered something about Slytherin/Gryffindor rivalries. And Lily …Lily had been kind, and sympathised but had never understood what it was he was trying to warn her about. She had fallen for James and even when Potter had finally told her, she had loved him too much to walk away.

Then James Potter had done something unforgivable.

While walking Lily back to her home one night they had been brutally attacked by Death Eaters. Severus had only just been taken on as Voldemort's personal potions master and Voldemort had not yet announced him as such due to his paranoia, so he was still considered fairly low in the ranks and few knew him. There had been too many and try as he might he could not protect Lily and they were both fatally wounded. Potter – somehow – had known something was wrong and arrived a few minutes later. The last thing Severus saw was Potter bending over Lily, screaming her name before he passed out from the pain.

He woke five days later to find himself and Lily newly-turned vampires.

Potter later told Severus that he'd turned him as he'd tried to protect Lily and was like a brother to her. Severus had told him he hadn't the right to choose if he or Lily had wanted to live a half-life: always having to hide themselves, and becoming monsters to survive. Severus was later to find out how noble the vampires' way of life truly was and for the first time found himself part of a family, but he never forgave James for turning Lily.

Then almost a year later Harry Potter had been born.

A year after that Lily and James Potter were dead and Harry was an orphan.

Ten years after that a tiny, thin, nervous boy with black hair, glasses, a lightning-bolt shaped scar and the most penetrating green eyes had arrived on the steps of Hogwarts. And all Severus could see was James Potter.

He realised now that he had never _allowed_ himself to look for Lily in the boy. It was simply too painful.

And he'd never allowed himself to see the way the boy was always much thinner whenever he returned to school after the summer holidays. How he flinched whenever someone touched him. How he never made eye contact unless he was extremely angry or forced to. How he would rarely speak, even with his two best friends, and would let talk wind around him, saying the odd word or comment here and there but letting those surrounding him carry the majority of the conversation. How, while his year mates went through growth spurt after growth spurt, he had only grown a scant few inches – a puzzling thing since James Potter had broken 6" and Lily 5'8".

It was not surprising that none of the other teachers had picked up on this, but as head of Slytherin, Severus had dealt with abused children before.

Indeed, Severus Snape had no doubt whatsoever that Harry Potter was an abused child. Severely at that if the boy's reactions were anything to go by.

Severus knew, to his shame, that if Harry Potter had been any other child, even if he hadn't been in Slytherin, he would have offered a supporting hand immediately.

Because of his inability to let go of his hatred of James Potter, a child had been abused to breaking point.

He had sworn to do everything within his power to ensure that no pupil in his school go through the same childhood he had. Yet not only had he broken his promise and refused to see what was in front of his face, but it seemed as though Harry Potter had gone through far worse then him. He could not fathom, nor did he want to, what had happened to the boy to rip his very soul apart.

Over the past few weeks Harry had been at the manor, Severus had observed him closely, and for once had forced his gut instinct to see the boy as his detestable father down. What he had seen had shocked him.

The boy was the living embodiment of Lily, not James. Without the glasses and the short, wild hair, every similarity to James Potter was gone.

Harry moved like Lily, his delicate bone structure was the same as Lily, the waves in his long hair were the same as well. His frown, his smile, his posture, his hands, his skin, his personality (whenever he believed he was alone,) were Lily, Lily, Lily. And for the first time, Severus realised how cruelly he had treated Harry, _Lily's son_, over the years. With realisation came regret and a deep, bone-cutting shame.

So now the potions master sat by Harry's bedside, his obsidian eyes burning into the unconscious figure on the bed, only breaking away to check the medical equipment before quickly returning.

Severus did not know what he would do when Harry woke up. The automatic reaction to be scathing to the boy might be uncontrollable. So too might be the reaction to hug the boy – the last remnant of his dear Lily – close to him. Either was a bad idea. He felt like he had begun a dance, but only knew half of the steps.

General Kurai had appointed him as the boy's official guardian. It was now his obligation to teach Harry the vampire history and laws as well as assisting Draco in understanding the physical vampire traits. Everything that Harry now did, Severus would have to be aware of. If Harry broke a vampire law, the penalty would come down on _him._

Paramount, though, was helping Harry heal, and the intricate silver collar that wound like a second skin around the boy's pale neck was proof of the long and arduous task ahead of him.

All Severus knew was this: if he hated Harry Potter, he would hate the boy for who he was – not for who his father was.

There was a groan from the bed, and Severus clutched briefly at the soft material of his robes.

The dance had begun.

Harry slowly became aware of his surroundings.

He could feel the bed beneath him and a familiar itching on the inside of his left elbow – so another drip.

There was also someone beside the bed, and the unique but not unpleasant smell of herbs and spices and the slow, calm breathing indicated it was his least-favourite teacher.

"Professor Snape, how long have I been out this time?"

Harry hadn't bothered to open his eyes, so he heard but didn't see Snape rise from his chair and move closer to the bed, presumably to check on the medical equipment.

"I admit, Mr Potter, that you do seem to be making a habit of passing out. I'm not sure if you'll be disappointed or relieved to know that you've 'been out' for less then sixteen hours this time."

Harry could hear Snape was being as sarcastic as normal, but there was something missing. Where was the usual malice?

Gradually Harry opened his eyes, letting them slide open bit by bit so they could adjust to the bright light.

Snape stood by his bed looking down on him and the Gryffindor found himself unsettled. The Potions Master had a completely unreadable expression on his face and his black eyes were eerily blank. If Harry had to guess, he would say it looked as though the man were contemplating something.

As Harry raised his head to shift himself into a position that would make him feel less like he was a specimen to be studied he felt something pull on the skin of his neck.

"Wha-"

Snape interrupted.

"I will explain the collar in due time. First I must ask you listen to what I have to say, quietly. I will answer any questions you have once I'm finished."

Wordlessly Harry nodded, and Snape settled himself back in the chair he had apparently been sitting in before Harry had opened his eyes.

"Firstly, I trust that you remember very little of the events that lead to you being back here?"

Harry thought back over everything he could remember, and wished he hadn't.

"There was a group of thugs in an alley, they …" _he would not say very nearly raped,_ "…attacked me. I remember a voice in my head, laughter, then that's it."

Well not quite. He was getting flashes of nightmarish scenes: of long claws extending from his own hands ripping into flesh. Terrified, agonised screams. Blood splattering the walls and ground of the alleyway, and laughter, the same laughter he'd heard in his head. But it was too vague for Harry to be sure if it was true or not. For all he knew it might be a memory of Voldemort's overlapping with his own, so for now he would put it to one side.

Snape nodded.

"I see, yes that would make sense. Tell me Mr Potter have you ever heard of the medical term MPD?"

Harry shook his head.

"Simply put, it stands for Multiple Personality Disorder, and you seem to have rather a bad case of it. This also explains the collar around your neck."

"What?" Harry croaked out, unable to comprehend what his ears had just heard.

Snape leaned forward a little, black eyes pinning him to the bed.

"Multiple Personality Disorder or Dissociative Identity Disorder. Due to extremely threatening situations a person feels unable to deal with, they build up a defence by essentially 'leaving' their body so the horror cannot touch them. With time a personality can develop that is more suited to surviving the encounter and it can grow to the point of even being able to completely control the behaviour of its 'host.' These personalities are known as 'alters' and there can be more than one. In fact it has been recorded that there can be hundreds, if not thousands of alters living inside one body, each one a separate entity and existing more or less independently from each other.

"Another sign of MPD is amnesia. While an alter is controlling the host, the host will have 'left' the body, so to speak and can be completely unaware of what is happening. Some people have 'returned' to find that days, weeks, months sometimes even years have passed with them being utterly unaware of it."

Snape stared into Harry's now horrified eyes.

"You seem to have developed only one alter and normally I would start counselling you immediately on how to become aware of then merge with your alter, but I'm afraid as things normally are with you, your situation is much more complex and dangerous."

The slight boy in the bed finally seemed to find his voice.

"How can it be any more complex then that? You're essentially telling me my soul's split in half."

Snape barely managed to hide the wince provoked by the boy's accurate description of his situation.

"Well I'm afraid it is," the Potions Master all but snapped, "due to the situation you were in, what you are, and the stress your mind was put under as your alter, who has named himself Solo by the way, completely took over for the first time, Solo now has the worst case of Blood Lust ever recorded."

"Blood Lust?"

Snape sighed. "Yes. Vampire minds, due to our different types of magic and longer lives, are larger, more complex, than humans. To become a competent Legilimens is a must for any vampire, in order to withstand the strain of the vastness of his or her own mind. If not the mind splits. It does not, however, create a separate personality. Simply put, the mind splits in two, cutting off certain emotions and leaving only basic animal instinct. Imagine a vampire that can focus on nothing but hunting.

"However with you your alter Solo, has been developing for years, I'm guessing since you were a very young boy, and when you became a vampire several weeks ago it simply fuelled his growth. As you were subconsciously pushing him down, which is what a vampire who's showing symptoms of Blood Lust does with their anger and hatred, all of those emotions were fed to him. By the point you 'turned' I'm guessing he was already aware and a separate personality; he simply hadn't gained the strength to take control. As you unconsciously fed him your negative emotions he started to take on the symptoms of Blood Lust – which explains why we had absolutely no prior warning – and the disease eventually consumed him. The only way I can be sure of why he is suffering from the Blood Lust so strongly is by studying you and him, but at the moment I am concluding that it was because he was buried in your mind. You will find as you progress in your Legilimency that you will feel emotions differently within your own and others' minds. On the surface you can brush emotions off and let your subconscious deal with them, but inside the mind you have to deal with the full emotion each and every time."

"I'm not sure I understand you," Harry quietly stated. Normally Snape would have responded with some cutting comment and ignored Harry's request, but this time he answered calmly.

"Imagine, for example, spilling a drink on yourself: you may feel irritated and slightly embarrassed but within the hour you'll have forgotten about it, because you'll have seen and understood the action – maybe you swinging your arm, the reaction being that the drink is spilled – and so you are able to break it down in a logical way. In the core of your mind where you hold Solo there is only emotion. There is no common sense, logic or thinking things out, all you can do is _feel._ So when you spilled that drink all he would feel is brutal anger, rage and humiliation, with no understanding as to why he would be feeling this."

"Oh, I see," Harry murmured staring at his pale hands in his lap.

"Understand, Mr Potter, this is not your fault."

Harry's head shot up. His potions professor was looking away from his and seemed slightly uncomfortable.

"Even I can see," the older man continued, still not looking at him, "that you were thrown into a situation you were completely unprepared for. I know that when I was turned I couldn't have survived through the first few months without people supporting me."

There was a long uncomfortable silence. The type of silence where two people who thought they knew where they stood with each other, were suddenly less sure.

Snape coughed.

"Ah, and that leads me on to the collar around your neck. When a vampire is suffering from Blood Lust, the only way to help them is to create a piece of jewellery from pure magic. The magic essentially forms a cage around the Blood Lust and pushes it back. With time, like a wound, the magic helps the Blood Lust to mend back into your conscience and become cured. Now, the jewellery is created using vampire magic which is in essence completely different to human magic: they draw their power from the earth beneath their feet, while we draw it from space, hence the reason why we are more powerful at night.

"Every magic has an opposite and so while most spells won't do a thing to your collar there are a very select few out their that can easily shatter it. If your collar is shattered several vampires whose power is above a certain level must gather to make you a new one, and in that time you will be completely controlled by your Blood Lust. Strangely enough you can also take the collar off, although it will be difficult and painful. If you remove the collar and it is still completely whole you can simply put it back on again for it to subdue your Blood Lust, although since the disease surfaced there has never been a recording of a vampire willingly taking off their Capere jewellery."

Harry was silent. The memories were still fuzzy and fractured and so far back in his mind it was like trying to remember a fading dream, but the images of blood flying through the air, long talons extending from his fingers and tearing through clothes and flesh alike and a hysterical, insane laugh laced with a vicious, bloodthirsty pleasure …they had to be real. When this 'Solo' was in control.

"I killed some people, didn't I."

It wasn't a question.

"There …there were these men, and they, well, they attacked me. I was so hungry I couldn't fight back and then there was this voice in my head, but it wasn't like Voldemort's had been, and I listened to it …I …" Harry trailed off, ashamed.

Silence rang like a bell.

"Not quite, Mr Potter,"

Empty green eyes rose to stare into penetrating black ones.

"It was Solo who killed them, not you. I have just explained to you that Solo is a completely separate personality."

"But," Harry almost wailed, thin fingers tightening on the sheet almost to tearing point, "it was my body, and Solo is a part of me. He originated from me!"

The room was suddenly too bright, the light cutting into his aching eyes. Even the tiniest sound stabbed into his head. There was an iron band around his chest, constricting his breathing. Hands were on his shoulders, shaking him. But everything was too fast, too bright, too much.

_+Mr Potter!+_

_W-what?_

He still couldn't focus. Couldn't breathe.

_Mr Potter, you're hyperventilating. Look into my eyes, boy.+_

_Can't …hurts, everything hurts. It's too much._

_+Look into my eyes right now, Harry!+_

Trembling, Harry managed to steady his eyes from flickering about aimlessly. There was a face directly in front of him. Young: early twenties at most. The skin was too pale but blemish free. The nose was hooked, but it suited the sharp angles of the bone structure, and while not making the face typically handsome the overall effect was very striking, especially with the onyx eyes: sharper than flint.

Harry found himself mesmerised by the colour and the depth, and little by little the iron band around his chest eased until he was breathing normally again and everything was bearable.

Until he realised Snape had wrapped his arms completely around him and that he himself was leaning against the potion master's black clad chest.

At the feeling of the boy tensing in his arms, Snape immediately let go and made a pretence of checking the drip while Harry collected himself.

"Mr Potter, I know it is difficult, but I must ask you to put that matter from your mind for the foreseeable future, until I judge you as mentally and physically strong enough to deal with it. I have pushed those particular memories into your subconscious where even Solo can't access them so they won't affect you so badly again, but try not to dwell on the matter."

There was nothing Harry could think of to say. Part of him wanted to say thank you, but the other half was reminding him that this was Severus Snape, a man who hated every fibre of his being and had had a hand in Sirius' death.

"Now Mr Potter, it's time for us to address your fear of physical contact."

Forget 'thank you.' A simple 'fuck off' would do now.

Unfortunately - or fortunately – before Harry could open his mouth Snape had resumed talking.

"Again, I will not force you to go into what has caused this reaction but you need to gain control over it before you return to Hogwarts. How long do you think you're going to avoid any physical touch in the halls between classes, during Quidditch or with your dim-witted Gryffindor friends, who, if I remember correctly, are constantly in some form of physical contact with each other."

Instead of rising to defend the insult to his friends, Harry found himself paling. Snape was correct. Ron was constantly throwing an arm around his shoulder, Hermione linking her arm through his, Neville would always walk so close their shoulders would brush, Seamus and Dean would lean over and around him to nab his homework and Ginny had taken to jumping unexpectedly onto his back for a piggyback.

He wouldn't be able to cope and he'd probably end up instinctively attacking one of them. Oh God, if he hurt one of them …

Then it came to him.

"I know someone who could help me, sir. I would probably have to go and see them every day for at least an hour though."

Snape studied him for several seconds, one pale hand gracefully cupping his chin.

"Very well, I'm sure we can work your lessons around that."

"Will Malfoy not be continuing them, sir?"

The potions master suddenly became very focused on brushing the non-existent wrinkles out of his robe.

"He will, but not immediately. Mr Malfoy is still unconscious."

"Unconscious? Why?"

"Mr Malfoy was the only one who could find you. When he did you had already slipped into Blood Lust," Harry felt himself start to get inexplicably cold, "and it apparently took quite a fight to subdue Solo enough to get you back to the Manor."

"Is he going to be okay?"

The corners of Snape's mouth twitched. The boy had not been stupid enough to ask whether Draco _was_ okay after he had stated that the young Slytherin was unconscious.

"He should regain consciousness by this afternoon."

Unexpected relief warmed Harry's chest.

"Would it be okay to go and see him when he does, I have to thank him from stopping Solo."

"I don't see that that would be a problem."

They smiled thinly at one another and the uncomfortable silence descended again. Harry stared out of the window at the sunlit morning while Snape glanced almost longingly towards the door.

"I believe there are only a couple of other things for me to go over before I can leave you to rest: one is that you have no doubt been wondering why Lucius is no longer in Azkaban.

"I'm sure you must have already been told that there are many vampires in the Dark Lord's army. Lucius is one of those masquerading as a human. He had been informed by myself that you were on your way to the Department of Mysteries and he knew that Bella would be going as well.

"Now Bella was in the service of the Council and pretending to be one of Voldemort's minions as well when the Blood Lust took her and unfortunately she was on a long solo mission at the time. When she returned it was much too late to heal her. However, she knew with what little sanity was left to her that if she told her Lord she was a vampire after years of hiding it she would be killed. So while she is now completely loyal to Voldemort she has never told him about the vampires hiding in his ranks.

"Coming back to the Department of Mysteries, if Lucius went, Bella would know something was wrong as the Council had the year before issued a decree to help you not hinder you. So Lucius took a low ranking Death Eater, fed him some Polyjuice and sent him on his way with a little Imperius. When the Polyjuice wore off the Death Eater was in ministry custody and Lucius was immediately sent a pardon.

"The second subject is who the Council has appointed as your official guardian. Now while Lucius and Narcissa would have been more than happy to take on the role, the Council has deemed it more effective if your appointed guardian could follow you to Hogwarts."

Snape glanced at Harry in time to see understanding dawn on the boy's face.

"General Kurai took great pleasure in appointing myself as your guardian, Mr Potter. While in the Wizarding world you are now declared an adult, vampire children do not reach maturity until the age of eighteen. Therefore any official decisions will have to be witnessed by me, you will not be able to live alone without my agreement, and if you break any vampire law, the punishment will be suffered by me."

The potions master gave the Gryffindor a few moments to absorb the information.

"Lastly, I will need you to draw up a list of everything you have done and where you have been since leaving your relatives' house. Also include who you have interacted with."

"Why?"

Snape shifted in his chair, facing the bed more fully.

"Mr Potter, you were a newly changed vampire: your magic would have been completely unpredictable and giving off waves. Your mind would have been adjusting to its new, larger form. Normally, anything a newly turned vampire does in the first forty-two hours is immediately pardoned by the Council under temporary insanity. After the forty-two hours the vampire's mind and magic would have settled into its new shape and they would find themselves thinking rationally again. We need to know your movements and interactions so we can issue any appropriate memory charms."

The wince Harry gave confirmed Snape's suspicions, but he didn't press any further. Instead the tall man rose gracefully from his chair and smoothed down the open robes he had covering his black trousers and shirt.

"I will leave you to rest for a few hours before returning to take you to Mr Malfoy's room once he has regained consciousness."

Harry nodded dumbly, eyes fixed on the far wall.

Snape started heading for the door.

"Sir?"

Snape continued moving but slowed his pace.

"Yes, Mr Potter?"

The man had almost reached the door and stretched out his hand for the handle.

"Will my daughter be obliviated, as well?"

The noise Snape's head made as he walked into the door almost brought a smile to Harry's lips.

Draco's return to consciousness was …interesting.

After slipping from unconscious to asleep while his body replenished the blood he'd lost, he suffered a rather muddled dream, which ended up with him bolting upright screaming about never getting the blood out of his favourite shirt, half scaring his mother to death. He then terrified her further when he realised he'd torn his stitches open and was in a considerable amount of pain.

Once he'd been re-stitched and given a pain-dampening potion the door to his bedroom opened and Harry stood blinking in the dying light.

As the younger boy carefully made his way over to Draco's bedside, large green eyes taking in the room around him, Draco got a chance to study him.

The Gryffindor really was too thin. He looked like a stiff breeze could blow him away. Combined with his long dark hair that was tied back in a loose plait and his enormous green eyes, he looked positively waif-like. Which made Draco all the more unsettled by the fact that the last time he had seen Harry, the boy had very nearly killed him.

While Severus had been in fixing Draco's stitching, he'd given the blond a basic overview of Harry's Blood Lust and MPD. To say it threw Draco was an understatement.

As Harry sat in the chair his mother had recently vacated the evening sunlight caught on the collar around his neck. It was a beautiful thing made of silver strands criss-crossing and curving around each other, forming intricate patterns. The strands also seemed to be very slowly moving – only enough for Draco's inhumanly sharp eyes to pick up – but they were. A testament to the amount of magic used to create it.

"Malfoy."

Draco abruptly realised he was staring and quickly dredged up his old smirk.

"Potter."

"Well, how are you feeling?"

Draco snorted.

"Like I've had the crap beaten out of me by a super-strong PMSing little princess."

There was a warning growl from the slight boy in the chair and Draco sighed.

"Fine, fine. The stitches on my chest itch like hell. I can still feel the place where my ribs punctured my lung and I've been told I'll have trouble breathing if I do anything too strenuous in the next few weeks. You shattered my humerus(3) pretty good too. All that on top of the blood loss, I feel pretty crap."

There was silence beside him and Draco looked over to find Harry with his head bowed, his dark hair shadowing his face. His shoulders were trembling.

"Potter? Potter, come on," Draco carefully raised himself off the pillows and leaned forward. One of Harry's hands was resting on his sheet but he didn't dare touch it. "Hey, it's not your fault. These things happen. Fuck, with everything you've been through it's a wonder it didn't happen sooner."

A sound suspiciously like a sob came from the shaking form.

"Damn, I'm no good at this kind of thing," Draco scratched his head, totally out of his depth. "I mean, just ask Pansy. She was really upset a few months ago and I tried to help. She asked me if what she was wearing made her look fat and I told her it was nowhere as bad as the outfit she'd worn the day before. For some reason she punched me. I mean, damn! I was just being honest!"

The chocking sound came again, then continued and it took Draco a moment to realise that Harry was laughing.

"Are you laughing at me?" He hissed, grey eyes narrowing threateningly.

When Harry nodded the enraged blond threw a pillow at him, hitting him squarely on top of the head and Harry broke down into a full-bellied laugh. Every time he seemed to get himself back under control one look at the sulking Slytherin set him off again.

It was an unspoken apology that had been offered and accepted. The relief of it had sent Harry into mild hysteria. Neither had got to the point of comfort with the other that they could voice their sorrows and faults, because the rivalry between them was still too strong and bitter. But neither could say that they still hated the other.

For a while they filled the silence with small talk: homework still to be completed and training still to do. During the conversation Harry had moved over to the window seat and was watching the sunset.

Eventually, as usually happens, the small talk ran dry and they had to return to more serious matters.

"You know Potter, even without all the disturbances, you may not have completed your basic training by the time school starts. You could be in serious trouble here."

"School …" Harry murmured.

"Yeah, Hogwarts, remember Potter?"

"Fine then," Harry stood and stared at the setting sun, casting its bloody light across the sky.

"I will let my world die, but life go on."

It was a whisper, so quiet even Draco barely heard it, and he got the feeling it hadn't been intended for his ears.

"What?" Draco asked.

Harry turned to face him, the fading light reflecting across his eyes and tinting his hair gold. Draco stared, mesmerised.

"I will not be going back to Hogwarts."

TBC

This is a character from one of my original pieces of work, although he's the bad guy in that. I liked him so much though I thought I'd give him a second chance. Anyone who tries to steal him will suffer a painful death by my hand.

Yes, this is one of my other characters in my original piece of work and I love him to pieces! And while Abunai and Kurai aren't paired together in my original story there is always a strong suggestion. Again, no stealing Kurai either.

The long bone of the upper arm.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **First off, an apology. You guys have stuck with me through the years I've been writing and have given me more support I could ever have dreamed of. I realise I am very slow to update and I'm sorry for it. Hopefully this year I'll improve.

Well, so I'm back again. A lot has happened over the past year so if you would please humour yourselves with my reasons for not updating for so long I will continue; towards the end of 2007 I went back to college full-time. As I was only doing a one year course I had to apply to universities immediately. January to April was taken up with interviews and to my complete and utter shock I was accepted into one of the top three universities that runs my chosen course: Illustration. Basically it's like getting into Oxford or Cambridge … … omg how the hell did I get on this course? As it was a conditional offer I worked my ass off for the remainder of the college year and when it came to our final exhibition I was feeling rather …off.

At first I thought I just had the flu, but as I got progressively worse I started to realise (yes, I am _that_ intelligent *cough*sarcasm*cough*) that it was defiantly _not_ the flu. This inspiration struck me when I was at my part-time job. I'm a lifeguard and as I was sitting by the pool I though 'shit, if anyone starts drowning now they are _screwed_,' because I didn't even have the strength to lift myself out of the chair. Turns out it was glandular fever and I had it so bad I'd damaged my liver. So I spent July and August mainly in bed and how I managed to pack my stuff to move to my new flat is something I'll never figure out.

Well, my recovery has been slow and I'm still pretty weak (won't be lifeguarding for a while!) but I'm at the university of my dreams and slowly drowning (a pun! Get it, get it?) under an intensely heavy workload. My tutors are very keen on us remaining one of the best courses in the country so threw us in at the deep end (another pun! Man, I'm on a roll today!) Look at it this way: on our last week before Christmas break we had a lot of projects to complete. One girl ended up almost collapsing because she hadn't slept for four days (and no she's not lazy or the type to put everything off until the last minute.) I was relieved when the holidays finally arrived, I can tell you. But anyway, the course is fantastic and I feel beyond lucky.

There is a downside though: when moving here I had to live without the internet for three months. Torture! Plus, I finished this chapter a week into 'no internet' and have had to sit on it for two and a half months. So, now I can finally show you! I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it (especially the bit of Harry/Draco interaction.) So please forgive the rant/list of excuses above and have fun!

**Thanks**: I did have a beta, if anyone has seen her please wrap her securely and post her to said address … *starts to sob* seriously, if anyone knows where Shadow Hunt has gone please tell me! Also a thank you to Totemo, you rock!

**Disclaimer: **No matter the amount of letters I've written, JK still hasn't agreed to give me anything. Not even a sentence.

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"You _what?_" Snape snarled.

Since Harry's revelation to him about having a daughter earlier in the day, Severus had gone to have a lie down. He was later disturbed when a panicked Narcissa had called him, babbling a thousand words a minute. When Severus had finally reached Draco's room he had discovered the idiot boy had ripped his stitches open. Once finished he had gone to collect the other infernal boy and had vanished from the room as quickly as possible. Now, he had been practically dragged back to Draco's room by an equally disgruntled Kurai where everyone else was gathered. And just in case all of this wasn't enough, Harry had the decided to drop his _second_ bombshell of the day.

"Um –" Harry began, but Severus was too angry to give him a chance to open his mouth.

"Do you realise what will happen if you don't return for your sixth year? I'll elucidate matters for you, since you seem to be too dense to follow things through to their logical conclusions: not only will your non-return raise panic in the wizarding world, it will also raise the suspicion of the Dark Lord _and _the Order. Both groups will start looking for you. The Order is resourceful and the Dark Lord is relentless. One of them _will_ find you sooner or later. We've had a close enough call already, you imbecilic brat."

The entire group, consisting of Harry, Draco, Narcissa, Lucius, Abunai, Kurai and Griffin, stared at him from their various points around the room.

Then Harry, sitting on the edge of Draco's bed, smirked. An expression Snape found unsettling on a Gryffindor.

"I beg to differ, sir. I have thought this through very carefully and unfortunately neither you nor Draco gave me a chance to explain before you decided to tell me what an idiot I am."

Snape was surprised by the flash of guilt that ran through his chest.

"Very well, please enlighten us with your carefully plotted plan."

A glare sharp enough to pin a fly to the wall was shot his way, before Harry began.

"As I said, I have thought this through very carefully. In fact I've been building on this idea since I first turned, although I hoped I wouldn't have to put it into action."

Harry shifted, uncomfortable with the amount of attention he was receiving and having to sit so close to Draco, even if the blanket was separating them.

"I _do_ in fact plan to go back to Hogwarts-" the immediate babble stopped him from going any further, and he sat there in stony silence until the assembled group realised they weren't getting anything out of him.

"As I was saying, I do plan to go back to Hogwarts: I need to continue with my schooling, have access to the library and have the safety of the wards. However I will _not_ be returning as Harry Potter. I need to create a new identity and disguise myself."

He raised a slender hand quickly to stop any interruptions.

"I know what you're going to say, but look at it this way: I have significantly changed since the end of last year, enough to raise suspicion when I am unable to give my friends and those in the Order of the Phoenix a reason why. I have barely even learned a quarter of what I need to know about being a vampire. If I were a new student no one would be surprised if I acted oddly or showed a different type of magic. Also, when 'Harry Potter' doesn't return to Hogwarts, Voldemort will be busy looking for him elsewhere, which will give me time to prepare myself without any interruptions. Finally, I have been growing suspicious of Dumbledore over the last couple of years and I think it would be wise to remove Harry Potter from the picture for a while. It will also give me time to observe Dumbledore when he doesn't know I'm there."

Silence.

Then Harry looked like he wanted to melt into the mattress.

"I guess while I'm listing reasons I should put my daughter in as well. It would raise too many questions if Harry Potter turned up with a kid."

Further silence. Then:

"A _child!_"

If Draco hadn't have had the pain-numbing potion that essentially numbed the rest of his body as well, he would have been across the bed and shaking Harry by the collar.

"You've got a daughter? You're barely sixteen and you're already a parent! You shameless hussy! How dare you? So who's the mother then, huh? Come on, tell me so I can go and give the cheap whore a piece of my mind!"

Only Harry was bewildered by Draco's furious reaction; the others just had to stand there and watch the difficult scene of two unbonded soul-mates, one aware, the other not. The soul-mate aware of the situation would have already resigned himself to never being with anyone other than his mate, while the other had apparently betrayed him while being completely unaware of the pain he had just caused. Add to this the fact that a jealous and angry vampire was also a very dangerous one, and the scene becomes more than a little tense.

"What are you getting so angry about? For Lily to be my biological child I would have had to have slept with someone when I was ten, for Merlin's sake! I adopted her, so get that into your thick blond skull."

Harry's sharp words seemed to have done the trick. Sort of. Draco was no longer jealous and wanting to kill whomever Harry had slept with, but the insult had hit home and the Slytherin was seething.

"Thick blond skull?"

"Yes! For someone so intelligent you can be amazingly stupid at times!"

There was a pause.

"You think I'm intelligent?"

Harry's eye twitched.

"I am not having this conversation."

A huffy Draco settled back vowing silently that this wasn't finished.

"While your plan is valid a lot of detail will have to be put into this to make it seem legitimate. This is a time of war so Dumbledore will be thoroughly checking the background of anyone who applies to Hogwarts," Kurai announced, stepping forward. "You are still recognisable as Harry Potter if someone looks closely enough, and it would be too suspicious for an orphan to turn up at Hogwarts. There would be less of an in-depth background check if you came from a real family, which means we have to find you one."

Harry looked a little crestfallen at the General's words.

"You're right, but I don't know of anyone who would be able to do that. It will put them and their family in immense danger."

An evil giggle turned everyone's head. How Abunai had got his hands on a whole bottle of wine while he had been empty handed when he had entered the room was anyone's guess. He took a long swig of it before bouncing forward.

Harry had to restrain himself from backing away as the white-haired man danced nearer. He had been quick to lean that if it wasn't a life or death situation the head of the Council was very playful and mischievous. He had resigned himself to the fact that the man had to be bipolar.

"Ah! I think I might know of a very suitable family!" Came the sing-song announcement.

They waited, but the man became distracted when he discovered he'd emptied the bottle, and began to mope. It took Kurai cracking his knuckles to get Abunai back on track.

"Yes! Where was I? Never mind, I remember now. I know of a family that's lamie. Old 'pureblood.' Very private so not much is known about them, _and_ they're based on the other side of the world!"

Abunai was apparently disappointed that no one was as excited about this as him.

"Oh come on, it's perfect, isn't it? We don't have to change much about Harry if we change his nationality, and because Asian magic is so different people will understand if he has trouble for the first few months. Admittedly Harry will have to learn Asian magic and custom on top of his training, but he seems like a bright kid!"

"The idea is …plausible," Kurai said thoughtfully, glancing at Severus, who nodded in agreement.

"Okay," Kurai announced, "if we do go with your idea, Abunai, who is the family?"

Abunai blinked at him with a fresh bottle that had appeared out of nowhere halfway to his lips.

"Why, I thought that would have been obvious, Kurai. Yours."

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Harry had a headache.

The results of the past couple of hours were undoubtedly the cause.

While Harry had fully expected the General to be upset at Lord Abunai's suggestion, he hadn't expected the man to turn the air around the other man to ice and attempt to crush him.

That, however, hadn't been the most surprising thing. _That_ accolade Harry privately awarded to what immediately followed.

As Abunai managed to escape, the General had held out his right arm, hand open in front of him, and a sword had exploded tip first from the centre of his palm in a bright explosion of light. There had been quite an impressive burst of blood yet Kurai had given no indication of any pain, instead choosing to swipe the impressive katana at Abunai's head and snarl something about not making decisions without consulting the people involved first. In response Abunai had laughed madly and sprinted from the room with Kurai close on his heels, alternating between trying to freeze and stab the head of the Council.

The only reaction from anyone else in the room was for Draco to snigger and Snape to shut the door with a small but heavy sigh.

Rational conversation followed (apart from Draco, who kept on trying to goad Harry into admitting the boy found him intelligent) and it was decided that, whatever was going to happen, the first course of action should be to get Lily. Harry immediately sent Griffin to the orphanage with a note explaining that due to a change in plan he was picking up his adoptive daughter at nine o'clock that evening, rather than at the beginning of the school year.

Griffin returned within the hour, breathless and moaning that he needed to get in shape, with a small confirmation that Lily would be ready at that time.

Now that the hour approached Harry was ready. Accompanying him were Snape, as his guardian, and Kurai, who had calmed down from his icy rage and had agreed to the initial plan of fostering Harry and Lily into his family. Draco had demanded to come but was still unable to leave his bed, though not for want of trying.

Harry was grateful when Kurai produced a portkey. As he didn't know how to apparate he was worried they might do a side-along apparition – which meant one of them would have to touch him.

Both men had been blissfully silent since they had joined the Gryffindor in the small parlour and, as the clock struck nine, Harry and Snape reached forward and touched the battered book Kurai was holding.

Harry felt the familiar tug under his navel and ignored the nausea it prompted, half from memories, half from the motion.

They landed quietly about a street away from the orphanage and Snape motioned for Harry to lead the way.

As Harry walked he felt a bout of unexpected nerves take him.

Now he was thinking sensibly again would he regret his decision to adopt Lily? What if she didn't like him once she got to know him better? How the hell was he supposed to take care of a child when he was still a child himself?

The three of them rounded a corner and Harry could see the high wall and gate of the orphanage further down the road.

He frowned.

Something was off, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Nervous for a different reason now he sped up, and halfway down the street he broke into a full sprint, startling the other two.

He skidded to a halt in front of the gate, slammed it open and stopped.

Snape and Kurai stopped just behind him.

"What's the rush, Potter?" Snape all but snarled. "Is this a short-cut or something?"

"No."

Harry's bewildered whisper made both men tense and scrutinise their surroundings, but they could see nothing out of the ordinary. There was just the wall and the gate encircling the old ruin of a house.

"This is it."

Snape started nodding before he registered what Harry had said.

"I beg your pardon, Potter, but did you just say 'this is it'? As in this _ruin_ is the orphanage?"

"It wasn't a ruin."

Harry started to move forward. The path that had been neatly tended only a few weeks before was almost completely covered in overgrown greenery. Where the grand old Victorian house had stood there was now simply two crumbling walls, what had been the front of the house and the left side.

As he got closer he noticed that what remained of the front door, just a rotten frame and the front step, seemed to be occupied with a bundle of blankets.

Hope rose in Harry's chest as he lurched forward and pulled the blankets away.

There she was.

A weight he hadn't noticed suddenly lifted from his chest, and he breathed easier.

Lily was fast asleep, her head resting on a small travel bag and the blanket protecting her from the worst of the chill.

"Is this her?"

Harry turned slightly to find Snape and Kurai peering down at the child with unreadable expressions on their faces.

"Yes, this is Lily, but …" Harry trailed off.

"You don't know where this orphanage is and why she was left on her own here?" Kurai supplied. Harry nodded.

The General leaned forward and held his hand out above Lily, and a green glow gradually encased his fingers and palm as he ran his hand up and down the length of her body. Seemingly satisfied, the green glow dissipated, and Kurai stood back up.

"She has a mild form of Dreamless Sleep which will work its way out of her system by morning. Other than that she has nothing immediately wrong with her, and it will be safe to bring her back."

A strange way of putting it, Harry mused as he leant forward to scoop the small girl into his arms.

Once he had her secure he started to lean back down to pick up her bag, only another pale hand beat him to it. Harry stared in mild surprise at Snape, who shifted the bag nervously, coughed, and refused to look him in the eye.

"Alright, everyone grab on," Kurai announced as he produced the portkey once again.

A simple touch and a nauseating jerk later they were back in the safety of Malfoy Manor.

Narcissa and Lucius were waiting for them.

"Harry," Narcissa greeted, smiling softly. He nodded.

"We've changed where you're staying, Harry," Lucius said, "we knew you would want to be near Lily so we've given you a set of rooms with two bedrooms. Is that okay?"

Harry wouldn't have it any other way.

Together, the six of them made their way up to the new rooms, which Harry found to be only a couple of doors down from Draco.

He wasn't sure whether to be irritated by this or not.

The rooms were similar to his old ones, only with three doors leading off from the sitting room instead of two.

Opening the nearest door he found a bedroom, so swiftly deposited Lily on the bed. The fire automatically started in the grate, bathing the room in a soft, flickering light.

Snape followed to leave Lily's bag but found himself staring as Harry tenderly removed the small child's shoes and bulky jacket before slipping her under the covers.

He watched the boy lean forward and stroke the hair out of her face, and jerked in surprise as Harry suddenly hissed and leaned forward, scrutinising Lily's features.

"What the hell?"

Narcissa, Lucius and Kurai were quick to appear in the doorway while Snape rushed to Harry's side.

"What is it Potter?"

Harry turned to glance at him briefly before turning back to the sleeping child and tracing over the thick scar that started at her hairline and curved down over her left eye until it stopped in the middle of her cheek.

"This was not there before."

"Move."

Harry obediently moved out of Snape's way as a green light encased the man's hand like it had done with Kurai, and he held it over the left side of Lily's face.

"This is an old wound, my guess is it's at least six months old. It wasn't caused by magic and it's affected her vision as well: she's completely blind in that particular eye," Snape evaluated.

A choked whimper from beside him made him pause but not stop.

"The wound is too old to heal. I can give her some salves that will stop the ache she most likely experiences whenever it gets cold, but other than that there is little I can do." The man paused and seemed to struggle over something for a moment, "I'm sorry."

Harry felt too stunned by the news that his newly adopted daughter had such a terrible injury to fully appreciate Snape, for the first time in his life, saying _sorry_ to him.

"I – " Harry gulped, "I guess there's nothing that can be done about it right now… we can speak to her in the morning."

Snape nodded, although Harry didn't see, and left the room, directing the others out as he went.

Harry sat on the edge of the bed, one hand reaching forward to rest on Lily's covered foot as she slept on, oblivious.

The nervous high he had been on had all but faded and his bleak mood had returned with a vengeance.

Every time he felt he took a step forward something always came along to knock him three steps back.

He felt as though he was suspended over the edge of a cliff and no matter what choice he made it would end with him falling to the rocks thousands of feet below.

He couldn't see a way out of this, especially now the orphanage had 'vanished,' and while he knew that adopting Lily had been the rashest decision of his life, it would be an even worse one to try to send Lily back.

He tried to put himself in her place, imagining what it would feel like to finally find someone who wanted you only for them to turn around and take it all back a short while later. To be abandoned again. He would think it was his fault, that he hadn't been smart enough, kind enough, strong enough. He did not want Lily feeling anything like that.

Leaning forward Harry placed a soft kiss on Lily's forehead before tucking the blankets securely around her and quietly leaving the room, shutting the door behind him with barely a click.

Snape was the only one waiting for him in the living room.

The Potions Master was draped elegantly across one of the couches, a glass of whiskey in one long fingered hand, a book that he was seemingly immersed in held loosely in the other.

Harry settled himself opposite and stared into the fire, waiting.

The clock on the mantle ticked on, chopping the seconds from their lives, the only other sounds being the occasional crackle from the logs burning in the grate and the soft hiss as a page was turned.

Harry began to run through all the information he'd had to take in over the last few days and build up a mental list of all the things he still had to take care of before – one way or another – he went back to Hogwarts. It was an exhausting amount, and he had no idea how he was going to complete even half of what he had to do before September 1st.

"You know," a velvety voice interrupted his steadily more depressing thoughts, "the old you would have been bellowing for my attention by now, or demanding that I leave, as well as cursing me with every crude insult under the sun."

Snape's eyes hadn't left his book and the tone of his voice was not accusatory so much as intrigued.

Harry actually let out a chuckle, which startled him almost as much as it appeared to startle Snape.

"Yes, well the old you wouldn't exactly sit and relax in front of me. I must say I find myself liking this more than our old relationship."

Snape's lips quirked.

"I find myself agreeing with you, Mr Potter."

They lapsed into a silence that was a little more comfortable and remained like that, Snape sipping from his glass and reading, Harry simply sitting and thinking, until the clock chimed the lateness of the hour.

With a soft sigh Snape closed his book and placed his now empty glass on the small table before rising to his feet.

"I believe it is time for me to retire."

Harry nodded and rose before walking with Snape to the door that led out into the hallway.

"I will be by at nine in the morning to wake you and check on the child. I trust you remember that you are also going to see 'that person' to help you with your touch issues. I will be accompanying you, and I suppose if the girl is feeling well enough she can come too."

A full paragraph without cursing the boy, his father or Gryffindors in general: a huge step forward.

That small, rarely seen, genuine smile slid onto Harry's lips and Snape found himself marvelling over it. Even before this newest adventure had started Severus had only seen that smile once, purely by chance, and he had been unable to understand why seeing it had been so painful.

He understood now.

"Yes, I would like it if Lily could come with us. Thank you, sir," the boy paused, "and – and I would like it if we could do this again as well, it was …pleasant."

Harry had the distinct pleasure of seeing his feared Potions Master blush: whether from embarrassment or surprise was anyone's guess but he struggled to keep the grin off his face as he bade the frozen man goodnight before closing the door.

Not a bad way to end the day, Harry decided as he made his way to his new bedroom and changed for bed.

\Much better than your usual doom and gloom, yes.\

Harry let out an irritated sigh as he finished buttoning his pyjama top.

"It's not like I want to be all 'doom and gloom,' Griffin, and you know that."

The raven glided from the windowsill to the bed and gave the boy a wry look.

\Indeed I do, which is why I'm allowed to tease you about it.\

A deadpan stare was Harry's witty response before he climbed into bed.

The lights winked out leaving only moonlight to illuminate the room.

"Griffin?"

\Yes?\

"Will I be able to do this?"

\And so returns the doom and gloom.\

Harry raised himself on his elbows and glared at the raven, who had settled himself on the bed.

"No it's not! I'm being practical! There're barely two and a half weeks left before I have to go back to Hogwarts and there's still so much to do. Damn it, even if I work from dawn until dusk I still don't see how I'm going to be ready!"

\Well, I agree that you've asked too much of yourself, but you're much smarter and stronger than you believe yourself to be. Don't forget that you don't have to deal with this all alone… don't be afraid to lean on us a little.\

Harry was silent.

\Everyone in this manor cares about your well-being, even that Dragon brat.\

Harry smirked and resolved to call Draco that at some point.

\We are aware that time is very short so while you were getting Lily, Narcissa, Lucius, Abunai and I had a chat and may have come up with something.\

"Really? What?"

\Not telling.\

"Griffin!"

\No, you need your rest and it'll take a while to completely sort it out. Let us deal with this – you've got enough on your plate.\

Harry was at a loss. He had grown used to having to take care of his own problems over the long years: when he was very young he'd learned to look after himself when he was sick as no one else would; at Hogwarts, while Ron and Hermione helped, he was used to the fact that he would end up fighting alone. The thought of sitting back and letting someone else deal with his problems perplexed him.

A wing buffeted his head.

\Enough of that. Sleep, my idiot master.\

"I'm not an idiot," Harry grumbled, but he still pulled the blankets up around him and closed his eyes.

Maybe it was because Lily was now sleeping only a room away. Maybe it was because Snape was suddenly being so amiable. Maybe it was because of Griffin's reassuring words. Whatever the reason, Harry slept well that night.

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When Lily had woken to find herself in a strange but grand room she did what any sensible six-year old would do: explore.

She had gawped at the view out of the window, bounced on the huge bed and almost locked herself in the wardrobe.

Then she furthered her exploration outside of her bedroom.

She crawled under the sofas, bellowed up the chimney and slid over the bathroom floor in her socks.

Finally she targeted one of the other doors.

The first led out to a large hallway that stretched away enticingly. Deciding to explore the other door first she assured her adventurer's spirit that she would return to the hallway later.

Upon opening the remaining door she found another bedroom.

The window was open letting in the cool breeze that stirred the curtains, and the sunlight illuminated the room, showing it to be similar to hers.

Lily had thought the room to be unoccupied and was about to explore when a soft groan from the bed froze her in her tracks.

Staring hard at the large bed she could make out a lump underneath the covers and strands of long black hair on the pillow.

Her breath caught in her throat at her excitement and she crept closer.

Crawling onto the bed, Lily knelt next to the pillows and observed the sight before her.

Harry was curled in a loose ball, his head almost covered by the blanket and completely oblivious to the world.

He was almost alarmingly small. Lily had seen sixteen-year old boys before and they were usually much bigger, but Harry, while being reasonably tall, seemed so delicate.

One of his hands was resting on the pillow and she compared it to her own: her skin was tanned from playing in the sun while his was as white as milk. Her fingers and hands were small. Harry's palm wasn't that much bigger than her own: but his fingers were long and graceful. His wrist was only a little bigger than hers as well.

Lily remembered Matron once saying never to judge a book by its cover. She hadn't understood at the time and she wasn't sure she understood now but Harry looked weak but was actually very strong. Maybe that's what she had meant.

"Harry," Lily whispered.

No response.

"Harry," she tried again, this time trying a poke on his cheek as well.

Harry's face scrunched up and he mumbled something before going still.

"Harry!" Lily hissed and poked a little harder.

"Urg, wazzat? Grf'n lemme 'lone."

Well, at least he was talking now.

"Harry! Harry! Waaaa~kkkkeeyy waaaaa~kkkeeyy!"

Slowly one hazy green eye slid open and focused on the grinning face in front of him.

"Lily!"

Harry bolted upright, one hand clutched to his pounding heart, as Lily laughed happily.

"Yay! You finally woke up!"

"Lily," Harry panted, "please don't do that again, you scared me to death."

Lily pouted.

"But I was so happy to see you and you wouldn't wake up to play with me!"

The last of the sleep fell away and Harry could think clearly. He turned to Lily with a gentle smile and patted her messy head.

"I'm glad you were happy to see me Lily, but sometimes I can be a bit dangerous waking up. It's best not to surprise me, okay?"

Lily tried to remain pouting, but with Harry's hand in her messy curls and that smile on his face – just for her – she couldn't resist.

"Okay!"

She jumped into his arms, wrapping herself around him as tightly as a limpet. Harry, unprepared for the sudden attack, fell backwards into the pillows.

She laughed and, hearing the happy sound, Harry began to laugh as well. It felt a little strange initially as he hadn't done it in so long, but he soon fell back into the rhythm of it.

"So, what have you been up to since I last saw you?" Harry asked once they had calmed down.

He wrapped his arms loosely around her, as he got comfortable.

Lily was more than happy to launch into a detailed explanation of all the adventures she and her friends had gone on since Harry had visited the orphanage, and that was how Snape found them an hour later as he walked in to wake Harry.

Neither of them noticed him so he got a chance to observe their interaction. Lily was engrossed in her story, using her hands to act out her brave exploits. However, she never left her place curled up at Harry's side, and likewise Harry never removed his arm from around her.

In all honesty Snape loved analysing people, from their body language to their mental well-being. While it was very important in his work as a spy he had always been fascinated with it since he was a child, which was what made him so good _as _a spy. Except, of course, when it had come to one Harry James Potter. There he had just point blank refused to see anything other than his old nemesis James Potter. But now, finally, he was pulling away the veil, and seeing what was really there.

He coughed, and Lily and Harry turned towards him, with Harry unconsciously pulling Lily behind him slightly.

"Good morning Mr Potter, Miss Potter."

Lily squeaked happily at her new last name.

"Good morning, Professor Snape," Harry answered before he nudged Lily.

"Say 'good morning' Lily, it's polite."

Lily shuffled forward slightly and focused seriously on Snape.

"Good morning, sir."

Snape nodded back, face just as serious.

"And a fine morning it is. Well done, Miss Potter."

The child beamed.

Snape strode forward to mask his discomfort at the prospect of a child smiling at him and stopped at the base of the bed.

"Mr Potter, once you and Miss Potter have breakfasted and dressed I will, with your permission, give Lily a complete medical exam and then we will go on our excursion. Are we agreed?"

Harry slid from under the covers and stood.

"We are, Professor. If you could wait for us in the living room we will join you once we are dressed."

Snape gave a brief nod and swept from the room.

Lily giggled and Harry sent her an enquiring look.

"I like him," was all she announced before heading for her own room, presumably to dress.

Harry shrugged before pulling some comfortable clothes from his chest and quickly donning them.

After he'd yanked his hair back in a loose plait he left his room and headed for the bathroom, ignoring Snape who was reading on the sofa again.

Once finished, he opened the door to find a huffily waiting Lily. With a slight chuckle he patted her still messy hair and reminded her to wash her face before joining Snape on the sofa.

The older man raised an eyebrow at the teen settling so close to him but made no fuss.

A short time later Lily emerged from the bathroom, face freshly washed and a few damp patches on the front of her summer dress as unquestionable proof.

She marched over to Harry, dragged a footstool in front of him and thrust a hairbrush in his face before plonking down on said footstool and turning her back to him.

Snape chuckled.

"I think she wants you to brush her hair, Mr Potter."

Harry hummed in response as he leant forward and pulled the hair band from Lily's hair. Slowly and carefully he began sorting through the tangles and the girl seemed to melt into the stool from bliss.

All three spent the next few minuets in companionable silence as Harry turned the wild, curly mess into soft, gleaming waves.

"Do you want a plait or a ponytail?"

His question indicated that their time had come to an end.

"A plait like yours!" Lily happily exclaimed, and Harry duly carried out her wish.

"All done," he announced, and Lily hopped off the stool and twirled around trying to see the plait.

"You look very nice, Miss Potter," Snape assured the child, and Harry was once again filled with the desire to grab the older man by his collar and demand to know who he was and what he'd done with the real Severus Snape.

Lily giggled, pleased at the response.

"Now if you would be so kind as to come over here, child, I need to have a look at you."

Puzzled, Lily trotted over until she was standing before Snape, who had set aside his book.

"Alright, Miss Potter, my hands are going to start glowing in a minute and I'm going to pass them through the air around your body. It is not going to hurt at all, okay?"

Lily glanced over at Harry, one bright brown eye and one duller one conveying their anxiety. Harry leaned forward and put a hand reassuringly on her shoulder.

"It's okay, Lily. If Professor Snape says it won't hurt then it won't. He's doing this to check that you are well."

The girl nodded and turned to face Snape again. He gave a nod and leaned forward, both hands extended.

Lily flinched when they initially started to glow but soon relaxed when she realised that both men had been telling the truth, and that it didn't bother her at all.

Snape examined her for roughly ten minuets, only muttering for Lily to turn around or lift her arms, his intense black eyes never unfocusing from his task.

Eventually the glow faded and he sat back with a sigh. Lily, now 'free', jumped up into Harry's lap.

"How did you lose your sight, Miss Potter?"

Lily's face fell.

"W-when my mummy and daddy went to Heaven."

Harry pulled her a little closer and kept his arms wrapped around her waist.

"Was it the bad men, Lily? The ones in the masks?"

She shook her head and suddenly became deeply fascinated by a landscape painting on the far wall.

"No, after they left some of the ceiling fell down. I was hit on the head and didn't wake up when the people from next door found us. When I did wake up I was in a muggle hospital and they couldn't fix my eye. When a wizard from the Ministry found me it had almost completely healed so they told me it was too late," she trailed off.

Snape stared at the trembling child before reaching over and patting her on the head. She turned to look at him, tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

"You have been very brave," was all he said, and the tears fell.

From her furious sniffing, eye rubbing and hiccupping, it was obvious she was desperately trying to hold them back, but she stopped in surprise when Harry turned her in his lap so she was curled up against his chest.

"It's all right to cry, pumpkin, you're showing us how much you loved your parents," Harry murmured gently into her hair. "You've had to deal with more than a lot of adults have to face, and you've come through it still able to smile. So I don't want you to ever be afraid to show your tears – if you need to cry just cry and I'll be there to help you through them."

While Lily couldn't fully comprehend the meaning behind the words Harry spoke, it was enough to break the dam, and she began to wail.

The two men let her cry, neither trying to quiet her or stop her and her tears gradually came to a natural close.

A little embarrassed she gave Harry and Snape – the latter of whom was slightly reluctant – tight hugs before rushing to the bathroom to wash her face.

While she was absent Snape reached into the pocket of his slacks and pulled out a crumpled lottery ticket. Harry stared at it.

"I didn't think you were the type to play the muggle lottery, sir," he teased and Snape sent him a look that clearly said 'don't be so stupid.'

"This is the portkey we will be using. However, as I don't know where we're going you will need to input the address before I can set it."

Harry's eyes snapped back to the ordinary bit of rubbish in Snape's long fingers. He had never thought to study how a portkey was made and now felt slightly foolish. If he had looked into it before maybe, just maybe, he would have realised that the Triwizard Cup was a portkey and Cedric …

He hastily pulled his mind away from that trail of thought. This was neither the time nor the place to mourn and go over all the 'what ifs' until he felt his chest would implode.

"What do I need to do?"

Snape explained that he needed to focus on the destination in his mind; preferably a clear area so there was no danger on appearing half inside a wall, while saying quite a long and complicated incantation. He gave the chant to Harry on a scrap of parchment and stated that he should go over it several times beforehand as his pronunciation had to be perfect.

As Snape handed Harry the written chant his fingers lightly brushed the boy's, and Harry jerked back as though burned.

Snape's eyes narrowed and noted how Harry was carefully edging away from him on the sofa and had been since Lily had left the room. He concluded that Harry himself probably wasn't even aware he was doing it.

Harry sent Snape a wary look before hunching over the spell, his fringe sliding forwards to hide his face. Quietly, he went over the incantation several times before indicating he was ready. Snape carefully handed him the lottery ticket and took out his wand. As Harry chanted, Snape weaved a confusing arc and settled the spell into the piece of paper. When asked, Harry handed it back to him, always making sure their fingers were at least an inch apart. Snape gave no indication of having noticed and rattled off another long chant while giving his wand another wave. The paper glowed brilliant blue for a moment before going back to its ordinary appearance. However, if Harry concentrated, he could feel the subdued magic woven tightly around it.

Lily chose that moment to exit the bathroom and she blinked at the two men now seated at opposite ends of the sofa staring at a rumpled bit of paper.

"Ah, Lily, are you feeling better?" Harry rose from the sofa and came to stand in front of her, giving her that soft smile all the while.

"Yes, thank you," was her response, as her parents had taught her that good manners were important.

"Well are you ready to go on a bit of an adventure then?"

Lily's eyes lit up and she gazed eagerly at Harry, then Snape, then Harry once again. She continued until Harry feared her neck might snap.

"Really?" She gasped, "really? Really really really a real adventure with you and Mr Snape?"

"Yes, a real 'adventure,'" Snape agreed as he stood from the sofa and pulled on a knee length jacket that had been on the armrest. His face had settled back into its usual scowl that Harry had long ago learned but had only just begun to appreciate was the man's neutral expression.

"So are you ready to go?" Harry asked Lily.

Lily nodded eagerly and latched onto his hand. Together they walked over to where Snape was standing and reached for the portkey. With a dull crack they were gone.

HDHDHDHDHDHDHDHDHDHDHDHDHDHDHDHDHDHDHDHDHDHDHD

It was a secluded area of the park and it was still early enough for there not to be many people about, so no one saw the three suddenly appear:

There was a tall man apparently in his early twenties, dressed all in black and with an intimidating air about him and hard eyes.

A small girl, around six, with a pretty face and wearing a light summer dress. With her cheerful expression it was easy at first glace to overlook the scar that ran down the left side of her face and the milky quality to the eye it ran over.

Lastly a teenage boy, not really short but so fragile looking that he appeared tiny. He was jaw-droppingly beautiful, but there was something about him that was …off.

But since there was no one about there was no one to admire the unique group as they made their way out of the park and onto the street.

Harry led them at a sedate pace, giving Lily time to gaze around at everything in excitement. He had chosen the park as their destination for the portkey because it was the prettiest route for where they were heading and would give Lily something to look at.

Snape strode behind them, looking more like a bodyguard than a chaperone, especially with the black sunglasses he'd pulled on the second they'd arrived in the park.

Lily eagerly pointed out everything that caught her interest and Harry dutifully was as fascinated until she saw something else and wanted to investigate that instead. She was having a whale of a time, as, she cheerfully announced, the only time she'd ever really been in the muggle world was when she'd been at the hospital. This had been made obvious by the things she was interested in, like the shop displays. She'd stared at a poster of a model advertising make-up for a good minute before asking Harry why she didn't move. The next thing to catch her eye had been the bus stop and Harry had had to explain to her that, unlike the Knight Bus, muggles had to wait in certain places to catch a specific bus so they could get the where they were going, instead of sticking out their wand. Of course that had led to Harry explaining why muggles didn't have wands. Then Lily had seen the plane flying over.

A slightly exhausted Harry led a bouncing Lily and a smirking Snape (the bastard hadn't helped at all) up a long driveway, glad to have finally reached their destination. A grand, Korean style house gradually came into view and even Snape raised an eyebrow in appreciation.

Instead of leading them up to the front entrance of the house, Harry veered right and headed for the long section that branched off. A veranda ran all the way around this side of the house and before Harry stepped up onto it he took off his shoes.

"You two do the same, please."

Snape was familiar with Asian custom and Lily, less culturally informed, was happy to comply; seconds later they were moving over the smooth wood floor.

Ahead there was an open sliding door and that was where they stopped to look into the Dojang for the first time.

Almost the entirety of the building was one long room with a bare wooden floor. At the far end, leading towards the main house, there were several doors, presumably leading to changing and equipment rooms. Along the walls there were scrolls written in Mandarin and Korean.

There was only one person in the vast room and she was kneeling in the centre, completely still with her eyes closed. She was wearing traditional martial arts dress, the black belt around her waist signifying that she was no amateur.

"Good timing, I have just finished."

Snape stared. They had been quiet, very quiet when they were walking along the veranda, Lily because she was so small and light as well as being too interested in looking around to talk, and he and Harry because they naturally made as little noise as possible. Yet she hadn't even opened her eyes to know they were there. Quite impressive, but anyone with enough training could do that, although Snape had to admit he was starting to understand why Harry had brought them here.

The woman smoothly rose to her feet before she opened her eyes. She was tall and, while slim, it was obvious she was well muscled. Her eyes were a piercing grey and her brown hair was pulled back into a bun leaving it clear from her face. She wore no make up but her face was striking enough to not need it. There was an air of calmness around her mixed with a quiet confidence that made one feel at ease around her. Snape unconsciously found himself relaxing before mentally cursing himself and tensing again. He did not know this woman; therefore she could not be trusted.

Then she smiled and Snape found his resolve wavering again. _Damnit, no_!

"Harry, it has been several years since I last saw you, you've grown, I hardly recognise you."

Harry bowed before stepping through the doors, making sure Lily and Snape did the same.

"I deeply apologise Sabum Nim, my schooling has kept me busier than I would have liked."

Harry knelt down before her and pulled Lily down next to him, who was busy staring at the woman in awe. Snape seated himself slightly behind him, just outside of an arms length and watched sharply as the woman seated herself as well.

"Well schooling is important, Harry, and I am aware that for you it has been more difficult than most, what with Voldemort."

Lily gasped and Snape tensed, one hand reaching for his wand.

"You said his name! I thought only Harry could say his name!" Lily yelped, pointing an accusing finger at the woman.

"Lily, it's rude to point," Harry chastised and she sheepishly lowered her finger, mumbling an apology. The woman laughed.

"It's quite alright. Why don't you introduce me to this charming girl and the brooding man behind you."

"I'm not brooding," Snape snapped.

She laughed again.

"Sorry, Sabum Nim, this is my guardian, Severus Snape. He is Potions Master at Hogwarts. And this is my newly adopted daughter, Lily Potter," there was a touch of pride in Harry's voice when mentioning Lily.

She did not question the fact that a sixteen year old boy had adopted a six year old girl, nor the fact the his guardian only looked a few years older than him.

"It's a pleasure to meet both of you. I am Ardra Quinn, the Sabum Nim or master of this Dojang with my brother Brann. Harry has been my student for many years."

Snape's head snapped around. If the boy had been learning a martial art for so long, why hadn't he announced it? There was only one time he'd ever seen the boy physically fight and that was when he had attacked Draco with the Weasley twins during a Quidditch game. He had not fought like a martial artist.

Harry turned to glance back at Snape, his penetrating emerald eyes saying that he knew exactly what Snape was thinking.

"I have always been taught that martial arts are to be used in self-defence only. The people who study it just so they can fight others better have absolutely no understanding of what it is to be a martial artist," Harry said quietly, eyes never leaving Snape's.

"Quiet right, Harry. Of course, since Harry went to Hogwarts he's only been able to come back a few times during his summer holidays. He's had to train himself while at the school."

Harry turned back to gaze at Ardra.

"My situation has changed, Sabum Nim. It is now imperative I continue my lessons with you even when back at Hogwarts, and I would like Lily to train as well."

Lily gave a squeak.

"You want me to do it too? Isn't martial arts like really cool fighting?"

Ardra sighed.

"It's always a little complicated explaining it to the young children, but it is the best age to start. I'd be happy to open the Dojang to Lily and yourself Harry. Do you want to have shared or private classes?"

Harry answered immediately, having thought about this beforehand.

"Lily doesn't know the muggle world and would probably let something slip in front of your muggle students, while I for certain reasons would at the moment find it impossible to train in a shared class, so I feel we should have some classes with the three of us together and some with just you and me. I can afford to pay for a year's fee for the both of us here and now, if you wish."

"That's fine with me. However you only need to pay for Lily."

Harry started in surprise.

"But Sabum -"

Ardra cut him off, leaning forward a little and staring at him intently, her eyes made all the more mesmerising by the morning sun shining in through the doors.

"Listen to me, Harry, you know I've known you were the 'great Harry Potter' since you first came to the Dojang, but I never put you up on that pedestal you hate so much. However, I did treat you differently because of your relatives. I kept letting you come, after that year's membership they paid for came to an end. I never did this out of pity for how they treated you; I did it because I could see that potential inside of you. You are a very special boy, Harry, _not_ because you're The-Boy-Who-Lived, but because of your love, strength and understanding," she leaned back a little and chuckled lightly. "Not to mention the fact that you're a natural at this."

Harry didn't say anything, too stunned to speak.

Ardra gave him a wry look before climbing to her feet and looking down at Lily.

"Well, while Harry's brain is melting shall we go and find you a uniform?"

Lily jumped to her feet.

"Yes please!"

Ardra gave a light laugh before leading the girl away to one of the far doors and disappearing beyond.

Snape listened to the woman explaining to Lily that the uniform was called a _Doe Boke_ until their voices faded away. Then he turned to the still stunned Harry.

"Mr Potter?"

Harry's hands suddenly tightened into fists.

"She always does this," he hissed.

Snape found himself a little confused by the anger in the boy's voice.

"Does what, Mr Potter?"

"Does something for me and expects nothing back," he sighed, the anger melting out of him. "I've been coming here since I was seven. My cousin was fascinated with Bruce Lee movies around the time wanted to 'kick ass' like him, so my aunt and uncle looked for the best place around and paid for a year. My cousin took one lesson and hated it but my uncle couldn't get a refund so he sent me instead so as to 'not completely waste his money.' I really enjoyed it, but I had to be careful none of my family found out. If they knew I liked it, or, heaven forbid, that I was learning something from it they would have pulled me out in an instant.

"When the year was up, Sabum Nim said I could continue training because I had talent. She made light of it and it took me a couple of years to work out that she saw me as more than just another student. When the Dursleys were late picking me up yet again, I heard her screaming at her brother, saying how she wanted to kill my relatives for what they put me through and that I deserved a loving home. I guess she just snapped that day because I came in with another bruise and she'd found out that social services had dropped my case again," he gave a bitter chuckle.

"I don't know how many times Sabum Nim and her brother tried to report the Dursleys, but every time social services took my case they would drop it again within the week and the files would mysteriously disappear. I know now that the whole 'blood protection' probably had something to do with it, meaning Dumbledore was involved, and if that's true then that man denied me any chance of a happy childhood."

Harry stood, suddenly sick of talking about events that couldn't be changed. Snape rose quietly behind him, going over everything the boy had just said and storing it away in an Occlumency pool for further analysis later.

"Mr Potter,"

Harry turned back from heading towards the door Lily and Ardra had vanished down.

"Yes?"

"Indulge me if you will. If you had been taken away from your relatives, there was the chance that you could have ended up with a family that was just as bad, or in a Children's Home, so why are you so sure your would have had a happier childhood?"

Harry turned his back to Snape so all the man could see was the slight back, trembling fists, jean clad legs and a long rope of hair.

The sounds of Lily and Ardra returning started to echo around them.

"Because Sabum Nim and Brann wanted to adopt me,"

Snape stared. He was slightly surprised for two reasons. The first was that Harry had voluntarily given him that information when, a month ago, he would only have told Snape something like this if the boy's life had depended on it. The second was that although he'd promised himself to figuratively wipe the slate clean with Harry he hadn't expected himself to find it so easy to appreciate the boy's character. Dare he say it, he was even starting to like the boy.

Lily and Ardra re-entered the room with a tall man trailing behind them with looks vary similar to Ardra: Brann then.

As Lily excitedly showed off the new uniform that she was wearing to Harry, who had walked over to them, Brann happily greeted Harry. Harry examined Lily's uniform, bantered with Brann and didn't flinch when the sibling's absentmindedly placed a hand on either shoulder as they all chatted.

So this was the family Harry could have had, Snape mused as he wandered over to join them. No wonder the boy was so bitter.

**HDHDHDHDHDHDHDHDHDHDHDHDHDHDHDHDHDHDHDHDHDHDHD**

They returned several hours later to find the manor empty. After depositing their new training equipment in Harry's living room they went on a search but eventually Snape got sick of following Harry and Lily from room to room and summoned a house elf who subsequently told him that everyone was out on the patio.

And everyone was: Draco was wrapped securely in a blanket and on an elegant _chaise lounge_ looking like a wounded prince. Lucius and Narcissa were sat as closely together as possible and Kurai and Abunai were, respectively, glowering and ignoring each other, as it turned out that Kurai had just taken the straw from Abunai's drink, as he had been making irritating slurping noises. Griffin was balancing on the edge of the table, out of poking distance of Draco.

As Snape strode out to the table and seated himself Lily hung back, nervous, consequently making Harry stop as well. The adults at the table pointedly ignored them and kept the soft conversation going, except for Draco, who craned his neck and leant back and forth impatiently.

"Don't be worried, pumpkin. I promise you all of them are kind people. Well… except for Draco, the blond boy. He's a spoiled brat."

"I heard that, Potter!"

Lily giggled and gripped Harry's hand as he led her over to the table. Everyone stopped talking and turned towards them.

"Everyone, I would like to introduce my adoptive daughter, Lily Potter. Lily, this is Draco, Narcissa, Lucius, Abunai, Kurai and Severus you already know."

A chorus of warm greetings (even from Kurai) made Lily relax and Narcissa conjured her a chair suitable for her height and seated her next to Harry with a quick flick on the tip of the nose, causing Lily to laugh. They started up a friendly conversation that soon had both of them dissolved in giggles and Draco looking at them as though they were mad.

It became apparent as they talked that everyone had had a successful day. Draco had healed enough to leave his bed for short amounts of time. Narcissa had drawn up a rather complex looking timetable/list going over all the most important things Harry still needed to learn, and fitting it successfully into the two weeks they had left. Lucius and Kurai had been working together over Lily's and Harry's disguise and back story. Abunai had been working with Griffin over something they were still keeping quiet about, but they both seemed very smug.

"So, Harry, how has your day been?" Lucius asked once everyone had finished updating him. He looked around.

"Lily, why don't you tell it?"

Lily initially looked shocked and a little afraid. She haltingly started to speak in a voice barely above a whisper but when she noticed everyone was genuinely listening she gained confidence and began to relate it like she had related her adventure stories to Harry that morning.

As everyone got drawn in, Harry quietly excused himself and wandered over to the edge of the patio. He leaned against the railings, staring out at the view in the peaceful late afternoon. The animated sound of Lily's voice drifted over to him and he knew she was unconsciously forming new family bonds with these people.

After a while he felt someone join him. He didn't have to look to know who it was.

"You know," Draco began, staring out at the view as well, "Since you've come here we've spent most of our time together training, arguing or unconscious."

Harry hummed in agreement, for once not wanting to ruin the moment by antagonising the youngest Malfoy.

"You've really surprised me, Potter," Draco continued. "We've known each other for, what, six years now? I always had you pegged as the 'Gryffindor Golden Boy.' You know: never thinking, always going for the glory and attention, Dumbledore's pet and generally exactly what a Gryffindor was supposed to be. But … you've been exactly the opposite over the summer," he paused, and the two of them quietly stood there before he continued again. "I realise that a lot has happened to you over the past couple of months-"

_Oh, you can't even begin to realise_, Harry was tempted to say, but didn't, knowing that Draco was making the effort to be nice.

"-but you've shown me that you're intelligent, hate attention, are more than a little suspicious of Dumbledore, and most importantly you've shown you're more of a Slytherin than a Gryffindor!"

Harry snorted and Draco looked indignant.

"Don't try to deny it, Potter. You may be more Slytherin than Gryffindor but I'm Slytherin thorough and through so there's no hiding it from me!"

Harry actually chuckled and glanced sideways to where Draco's hand was resting on the wall. It was bandaged and trembling slightly, causing Harry to sober immediately.

"Did I ever say sorry?"

Draco turned to him, surprised.

"I beg your pardon?"

Harry gestured uncomfortably to the other teen's bandaged body.

"Did I ever, properly, say sorry for almost killing you and all the trouble I've put you and your family through?"

Draco stared at him for an uncomfortably long time.

"I never, in all my life, thought I'd hear those words from your lips aimed at _me._"

Harry gave an uncomfortable smile.

"Well, I feel I should apologise for a lot of the trouble I've given you at Hogwarts as well, although a large portion of the arguments we've had were started by you."

"I resent that remark!"

"It is true though."

"Well …fine, I'll give you that."

They stared uncertainly at each other until Draco sighed and hung his head.

"Alright, I apologise as well then."

Harry raised an eyebrow in doubt but Draco didn't feel irritated by the disbelief, instead feeling as though they were exchanging teasing banter.

"Listen up, Potter, because you're not going to hear this again: I apologise for repeatedly trying to get you expelled, losing you points and generally arguing with you every time I saw you. I realise I took it way too far but in my defence to start with it was because you genuinely hurt me."

Harry frowned and turned so he was fully facing Draco, their bodies' mere inches apart.

"Hurt you how?"

So Draco explained about idolising him as a child, his excitement on realising he'd met him at Madam Malkin's only to have everything blow up in his face as Harry coldly turned down his offer of friendship, and the resentment that had built up.

Harry was silent for several minutes once Draco had finished.

"I appreciate you telling me. It actually makes things clearer on why you were the way you were, but will you listen to my side of the story now?"

Draco agreed and Harry explained (in vague and heavily edited detail) about the Dursleys and his life before Hogwarts, Hagrid his first ever friend and Ron, his second, then Draco's blatant disrespect and solidifying himself in Harry's eyes as a bully, like his cousin.

This time it was Draco who fell into a contemplative silence, both for the first time standing on the opposite side and seeing their own actions through the other's eyes.

"So …" Draco began slowly. "All of this animosity between us happened because of a big misunderstanding?"

Harry gave a half-smile.

"I suppose so."

"Well …damn."

Harry chuckled before becoming serious again. Draco could almost feel the intensity like a physical blow radiating from him.

Green eyes burned into grey.

"Draco Malfoy, it would be remiss of me after all you and your family have done for myself and now Lily, not to shake your hand in a honest offer of friendship. I understand that old habits die hard and we'll still argue most of the time, but I hope, if you accept, that our arguments will not be spiteful, with an intent to harm each other."

A pale, thin hand was offered in the small space between them.

Draco blinked, hardly daring to believe what he was seeing and hearing. A long faded dream stirred at the back of his mind and started to shuffle forward sheepishly.

Three months ago if Harry Potter had walked up to him and offered his hand in friendship Draco would have thought it was some sort of Gryffindor prank and retaliated accordingly. But now he could see the honesty burning in those mesmerising eyes.

Slowly, Draco reached forward, and his bandaged hand wrapped around Harry's smaller one.

As Draco pumped Harry's hand up and down nothing in the world could have stopped the grin that spread across his face.

"Thanks, Potter."

"Harry, please."

"Only if you call me Draco."

Harry smiled. A genuine, warm, full-hearted smile, and for the first time Draco felt his heart clench and butterflies start in his stomach.

Their hands dropped and they went back to gazing at the view, although this time their arms were just brushing: something which Harry was feeling calm enough to tolerate and that Draco felt was burning into him in a pleasant way.

"It's been a good day, Draco."

Draco smiled.

"It certainly has, Harry."

Behind them Lily laughed.

TBC


End file.
